A Chance To Live
by Return Of The Nightmare
Summary: Remus and Tonks decide that Harry has suffered more than enough. They send him off to his six year-old body in a parallel dimension along with a few others to give him a chance to truly live. Mentions of child abuse, bullying, torture, rape and death.
1. The Dementor's Snog

**EDIT (10/07/2014): Spelling mistakes fixed**

* * *

_"Freak!"_

_"Kill the spare!"_

_"No, get off of her!"_

_"Arrogant, attention seeking brat…"_

_"Crucio!"_

_"No, please, not Harry!"_

_"You're not getting away, Potter!"_

_"You deserved to be punished… Hem hem."_

_"Harry… why? Why would you…"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"No… no, please! Stop! I'll do anything, just stop! PLEASE!"_

_"Come to die…"_

_"…Azkaban isn't bad enough for crimes of this scale…"_

_"Happy Birthday, Harry…"_

"Harry…"

A voice called to him through the tormented screams of his Dementor-induced nightmares.

"Harry…"

He felt he should know that voice, but from where? Maybe someone had decided to pay him a visit. It wouldn't be the first time a stupid Ministry member came to gloat about how 'utterly fabulous' they were…

"…Harry?"

Well, whoever it was, it was a girl. And she certainly didn't sound very arrogant.

"HARRY FREAKING POTTER!"

Harry Potter jolted awake. Did he insult the lady's voice? Should he have thought her arrogant?

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry, just look up, would ya?"

Reluctantly, he obeyed the voice and looked up, only to find nothing there. Great, now he was imagining things. And there he had been just a few days ago feeling proud of the fact that he hadn't succumbed to the madness that made his fellow high-security prisoners talk to people that weren't really there. Utterly fabulous. Ew, that's what that fat Ministry dude called himself…

"Alright, not just up. Turn around, Harry."

Oh. Maybe he hadn't been imagining things? Harry slowly turned around to find himself face to face with a weird silvery light. Was this light talking to him?

"Great, now we can have a semi-civil conversation. Well, I say that… I'm going to have to rush, the idiots are already in the building-"

"Er – who are you?" Harry managed to croak out through his throat that had been used for little more than screaming in the past however many years.

It seemed as though the light was glaring at him. "Merlin, Harry, I'm trying to warn you of shit here. You'll find out who I am soon, and why I'm here. Well, sort of here, but-" She was interrupted by a laugh from somewhere downstairs. "Okay, they're being quicker than I thought. Right, I'd better not mess this up. Um… right," she paused. "Harry, the Ministry has decided to give you the Dementor's Kiss."

The light paused here as though expecting Harry to sink to the floor in tears. Why would he do that? Didn't the light realise what this could mean for him? He could get away from this hell. But no, he deserved it. It was all his fault. His. Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Teddy. The thought of Teddy brought a familiar pain to his chest. Poor Teddy was an orphan because of him, and now he couldn't even give him a father figure. Andromeda probably wouldn't live long enough to take care of Teddy for too long, so he would be sent to an orphanage. He'd given the boy his own miserable life. Hopefully Gringotts didn't obey the Ministry and did as his Will told them to. He couldn't let the Ministry get their filthy hands on his Godson's and son's money. And James! He would never remember him, he'd left him to his own life of horrors. No. He would die before he let them-

"Okay, Harry, as much as I understand why you feel the need to brood, you need to listen to me now," the voice jolted him from his thoughts and pain. "When the Dementor comes to you to give you the Kiss, I need you to kiss it back, okay?"

Kiss it back? What was wrong with this light thing? Was it crazy? Well, if it was a figment of his imagination, then probably.

"I need to get a response from you, Harry," the voice sighed. "Repeat to me what I told you to do."

Should he? He glanced around. Most of his fellow prisoners seemed to be off in their own worlds at the moment, if not apologising to something that wasn't really there desperately. They wouldn't notice… what was there to lose?

He cleared his throat. "I- You want me to k-kiss the Dementor back."

The light seemed quite pleased with itself. "Yes, that's it! Now, no one else will be able to see or hear me, Harry, because that's the way I want it. I'll give you encouragement throughout, reminding you just in case," she seemed to sense his doubt, though, because the light paused before turning more serious. "Please, Harry. If anything, at least you'll give the Dementor a nasty surprise during your last moments."

Harry stared at the light a little longer as he listened to the aurors witnessing his kissing stomp up the stairs. "Who are you?"

He could have sworn the light smiled a bit. "You'll find out if you kiss the Dementor back, Harry."

This seemed to seal the deal for Harry; he'd always been too curious for his own good, and after so many years rotting in Azkaban, he'd had precious little to feel curious about. He briefly wondered how long he'd been in here, exactly, and why they were administering the Kiss now.

Harry jumped at the sound of his cell door being unlocked. He could feel the Dementor on the other side, along with a mildly strong patronus protecting the aurors. The door swung open revealing three stony-faced aurors, one fox patronus, one Dementor and one smug and much older looking Cornelius Fudge.

Confusion must have shown on his dirty face, because Fudge looked even more smug. "Yes, you would be confused at my being in office as Minister of Magic, wouldn't you?" His smugness never faltered as he spoke. "Well you see, this is actually my last day in office. I took over eight years ago after poor Dennis Creevey was assassinated. Terrible incident, terrible." Fudge shook his head, not sounding sorry at all. "About as terrible as the fact that your muggleborn friend is most likely to become Minister during the final Wizengamot vote tomorrow, and we all know she'll try to prove you innocent of your horrific crimes. So I figured my last action as Minister of Magic should be to save the wizarding world of any chance of you running amok, blowing it up until it's in ruins."

A strange emotion flooded through Harry, causing pain in his chest again. Hermione didn't blame him! Then again, she had been one of the people who had worked hard for months just to save him from Ron.

"I know, Harry," the light told him gently. "It's good that at least some of your friends stuck with you until the end. She tried to break you out after a few years of careful planning, you know? Nearly got herself killed." This comment just made the pain worse.

Fudge remained smug. "But now, the mudblood will never get a chance to save you," A sickly smile appeared on his face. "Harry James Potter, I hereby sentence you to the Dementor's Kiss for over three thousand acts of murder, unleashing a dangerous-"

"Minister, we all know what he's done," a tired looking auror snapped impatiently. "Can we just get this over with? I have a date at six."

The man in question seemed torn between getting out quickly and throwing things in Harry's face. After a few moments of glancing between him and the auror, idly scratching his chin with a finger, he exchanged a glance with one of the other aurors, who then gave the Dementor some strange signal.

As the Dementor swooped down on him, the screams of all the people he'd let down filled his ears. But the desperate yells of the light telling him to kiss the Dementor back stood out, for they weren't scared of some horrific fate of their own. They were terrified for Harry's safety. It was agony for Harry's chest, but it was something Harry had not experienced in so very long.

So he did what the light told him to.

He kissed the Dementor back.

It was horrible. It tasted like everything Harry hated the most – including the rancid meals they served here. All he wanted to do was pull back and get away, but he was determined, for the very first time in he didn't know how long, to win this battle. He kissed the Dementor back with vigour, turning the Dementor's Kiss into a disgusting snog. Plenty of tongue. He could hear the light laughing good-naturedly and cheering him on in the background, and the Dementor was too surprised to pull away.

Just as the Dementor came to its senses and tried to back off, something seemed to tug on it, and all of a sudden the cell contained only four confused Ministry officials and Harry Potter's soulless body staring at nothing.

Confused at the new revelations, the aurors just shrugged and levitated the body away.


	2. Pink and Purple

**EDIT (10/07/2014): Fixed spelling errors**

* * *

Harry awoke in a strange place. The marble floor under his face was cold, but not unwelcomingly so, like the stone floors of Azkaban. The entire place seemed to be filled with a pink and purple light. Where the hell was he?

"Wotcher, Harry."

Tears came to his eyes. The voice in the light. He knew who it was now. He carefully lifted his head up off the ground to find Nymphadora Tonks smiling down at him from a crouching position.

He was in hell. He knew it, this was his punishment. Eternal guilt. It was just a bright version of Azkaban where he got nice, silky robes. That's why the light said he'd know who it was soon. And it was all his fault. Tonks. Remus. Oh god, Teddy!

But he felt like he was missing something important.

As though understanding his confusion, Tonks ran a hand through his hair – short and clean, now, and he wasn't sure he liked how exposed his face felt. "Harry, Remus and I don't blame you. Neither do Sirius, your parents, Cedric… none of them. And neither does Teddy." She held out her hand to help him up.

Taking her hand, Harry just stared at her in horror. "Teddy… No, please tell me he isn't dead too!"

Tonks smiled and gestured towards a soft sofa nearby. "Sit, and I'll explain," she said softly, putting an arm around him to help him walk. He hadn't walked in so very long.

"Teddy is perfectly fine, and alive," Tonks explained once they were sat down. "You were stuck in Azkaban for twenty-six years, Harry. You were forty-nine years-old when you were kissed – nice kissing, by the way. Teddy is now thirty-five, and James is twenty-seven. Both are married, have lovely kids, and remember you for what you are, not who you were made out to be.

"Teddy managed to remember you, Harry. He told James stories of you growing up, and he and their friends told everyone at Hogwarts the truth during their time there. By the time Cornelius had you kissed, most of the public believed them. That's why they voted to have a new Minister, Hermione to be precise. Naturally, though, Cornelius Fudge still had a grudge on you, so he decided to have you dispatched rather than saved."

Harry was hyperventilating. Twenty-six years! He was forty-nine! The last time he knew his age, he was in his twenties. Now he was nearly fifty! And Teddy. James. They were little children the last time he saw them, and now they were parents. He frowned, realising that if James had a kid then he was a grandparent. "Um… what did James call his kids?"

Tonks laughed. "He carried on that little tradition, Harry. He called his son Harry George Potter, after you and his godfather. Harry's three now."

He smiled. At least his son and godson were happy. That's all he ever wanted for them. "Who took care of them?"

"George took care of James, and my mother took care of Teddy. She lasted longer than you think. And don't worry, they both got their money and properties. Gringotts is much fairer than the Ministry."

Harry smiled and nodded. He hadn't ruined their lives. For once, he hadn't killed the people he loved most. Even Hermione was alive and thriving. But then a frown crossed his face as he realised what was missing. The pain. The pain wasn't coming.

Whispering "Ah," after seeing his confused face, Tonks leaned closer to him a little. "Your curse scar won't affect you here, Harry. But, unfortunately, there is a high chance it will where you're going." She sighed, giving him a sorry yet hopeful look.

He stiffened. They were sending him to hell. He knew it all along. But then again, he deserved it. He'd ruined so many lives just by living. He didn't deserve happiness. A tear rolled down his cheek as he realised he would never get to know his parents, never see Sirius again.

"You'll meet your parents one day, Harry," Harry jumped as a distinctly male and familiar voice came from opposite Tonks. He swirled around, properly crying now. Remus. He looked so happy, and yet it was all his fault.

"I'm so sorry, Remus…"

Remus waved a hand dismissively. "It's not your fault Harry, and I hope you'll see that some day. But what we're trying to say here is that we're giving you another chance."

Harry glanced between the two, severely confused. Another chance? At what, redeeming himself? There was no redeeming himself, he'd caused the deaths of so many people, he may as well have kil-

"Harry, we're sending you to a parallel dimension."

He just stared at Remus, who was smiling down at him as though he… as though he were proud of him. But why? What was going on?

His confusion must have shown because Tonks put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, we're sending you to inhabit the six year-old body of yourself in a parallel dimension where there are very few differences, just little bits here and there that don't really affect much. We're doing this to give you the chance to live a happy life, so that you can heal."

* * *

Harry's discussion with Tonks and Remus hadn't take much longer. They'd told him the gist of it, and held things out for himself to figure out. Apparently they were sending a few other people to this other dimension to help kick-start his new life (Remus and Tonks wouldn't be going so they could keep an eye on Teddy), and there would be a series of interesting tasks for him to complete for 'fun' and to help him defeat Voldemort early. Tonks would be able to project herself to him whenever he was alone or with those in on the secret to give him advice. It all seemed a bit surreal to him, but he figured that even if this wasn't real, he wanted the chance to meet Sirius again.

The only problem was that although they knew he would be in his six year-old body on his sixth birthday when he arrived, they had no idea whether his scars would follow. They had a strong feeling the curse scar would, since it's magical, but they weren't sure about the others. They doubted it, but there was a chance. It worried him, since people would most likely think him mentally unstable if they saw some of his scars, such as 'I must not tell lies' on the back of his hand. He hoped none of them followed.

He still didn't think he deserved it, but he wouldn't turn it down, either. They'd already sent the other people they wanted, so he wasn't going to make their efforts worthless. He simply felt guilty, was all.

But now, here he was, standing up before Remus and Tonks with tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said again, honestly feeling he hadn't apologised enough. "If I'd just given myself up sooner… if I hadn't let them catch me…"

Remus shook his head. "You wouldn't have killed off Voldemort had you given yourself up sooner, Harry. And then Teddy could have been killed. No, it's better that we died making the world a better place for him."

Tonks carried on with a sad smile. "If you ended up on the run, the Ministry might have kidnapped Teddy just to trap you. No, it's better that Teddy doesn't have that on his conscience."

But it didn't ease the pain for Harry. "That doesn't stop me from feeling guilty. It doesn't stop me from feeling like I don't even deserve to be near you. It won't stop me for blaming myself for… for…"

Harry never found out whether he would have been able to finish that sentence, for he had suddenly found Remus' warm arms around him as he broke down completely. Tonks' hand was stroking his hair in comfort. He didn't feel like he deserved it, but it felt too good to let go of. It had been so very long since someone had comforted him, and Harry relished the feel of his secondary godfather's hands gently rubbing his back to help calm him down.

Once Harry had calmed down for the most part, Remus pulled away slightly to look into his eyes. "We're all so very proud of you, Harry," he whispered gently. "Now go. Live a life. That's all we want for you, cub."


	3. Metamorph Musings

**EDIT (10/07/2014): Fixed spelling errors**

* * *

(_Back in the original world_)

There had been public outrage that day.

People had been pissed when they had found out Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban and three years on the run for a crime he had not committed. The truth was only brought to the public when it was too late, though, so no one could offer their apologies to the man.

People had been outraged when they found out Minister Fudge had been risking their lives in his denial that the biggest threat alive existed. So many people had died because of his idiocy. But again, by the time the public found out many families had been scarred with losses that could not be fixed.

But, if people had been pissed then, they were downright livid now. Because even after all those mistakes, they had made one far greater. An innocent man had been sent to Azkaban for twenty-six years after a scripted trial where he had been given no chance to prove himself innocent, and said man had been given an unauthorised Dementor's Kiss last night.

But this may not have meant so much if it weren't for the sacrifices to wizarding and muggle society said man had made.

Harry James Potter had been lost forever.

People had been deluded by strong confundus charms set up by secret Fudge supporters and Death Eater supporters not long after the war, making them believe Harry Potter had been the one to blame for their families' deaths and injuries. They hadn't bothered with his close friends because that would seem odd, but within a year they had pretty much the entire wizarding population against him. People attacked him in the streets, so he'd resorted to Floo. They'd even believed him to be a dark wizard, resulting in him being kicked out from auror training with no refund.

And then he was tortured by his own friend, but those under the effects of the charm merely believed him to be looking for attention when he pressed charges. And yet, looking at photographs from the following year, it was obvious he had been telling the truth; you could see the pain and fear in those eyes quite clearly.

And this was why Teddy Lupin, godson of Harry Potter, who had been six years-old at the time of his imprisonment, had spent his life trying to convince the public that Harry Potter wasn't at fault. Not only did he remember him, but he knew his close friends, having grown up with them. James Sirius Potter was practically his brother, and he'd made sure James hadn't grown up believing his father a murder like Harry had grown up believing his father a drunk.

He'd made progress, eventually, with the children while at Hogwarts. The confunders hadn't thought it necessary to use the charm on the children, believing they would follow in their parents' footsteps. But once the children were aware of what was going on the confunders couldn't act, because the kids were on the lookout for a strange temptation to hate Potter.

Progress with the adults had been slow, but quite recently they'd made massive progress; not only did they break through the charms, but they were as furious as the younger generation. Fudge had been elected Minister again a few years ago, and they were livid about it once they were in their right minds.

Not everyone had broken through, though, and so as one last act as Minister – and probably a living human being – Minister Fudge illegally gave Harry Potter the Dementor's Kiss.

Thus was why Teddy Remus Lupin was sitting in a private room in The Three Broomsticks with his brother James Sirius Potter and a few bottles of firewiskey.

"It's not fair, James," the blue-haired metamorphmagus groaned. "He was so nice, even when he was hurting, and now look what's happened!"

His fellow metamorphmagus was sporting his natural looks as usual, in honour of his father, who, now they'd read his journals, they now knew to have been a metamorphmagus unknowingly. "I never even got to meet him Teddy," James sighed, setting his bottle down. "After all these years, I thought maybe I'd get to meet dad soon… and now he's as good as dead. He's gone." The metamorphmagi were doing their best to remain manly by not tearing up, but they were failing quickly now they were in each other's presence.

Teddy looked up from wiping his so-called non-existent tears away. "How'd you find out?"

"_The Prophet_," James growled. "Bastards didn't even think to tell me personally before anyone else. It's like they don't care that I'm his son or something."

Teddy scowled. "Same here, only with me it was when Victoire handed it over looking paler than I've ever seen her."

Lord Potter put his head in his hands. "He never met me properly, Teddy," he whispered. "What if he doesn't like what I've become?"

His friend laughed at that. "James, you remember what Hermione told you six years back, surely?"

James' eyes lit up at the memory of someone comparing him to his father. "Yeah, she said I'm like a less hurt and more outgoing version of Harry with hazel eyes," he recited proudly before slumping his shoulders again. "But that doesn't mean he'd like me."

The son of a werewolf smiled sadly. "James, you keep forgetting what everyone says about Harry," he said, holding James back from taking another swig of drink. "He was known to be a brave man who put his own life in danger for other people, even if he didn't like them much. He was nice, James. Quiet, but that's what happens when some meddling git forces you to live with abusive muggles for your entire childhood," he scowled before taking a drink. "Honestly, the fact that he didn't turn dark from that is proof enough that you should be proud to be like him."

The younger man's eyes seemed to light up with this claim that his father would have loved him. "But I didn't grow up with abusive relatives. I grew up with George and his family. I never had a reason to-"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Slightly peeved, Teddy was about to call for whoever it was to come in when James waved a hand and opened the door that way. Teddy smiled softly at the magical power and skill he'd inherited from his father, while the bar maid simply looked bewildered at the realisation that one of her customers had performed wandless magic. She quickly composed herself, though, and moved on to her job. "Er, is there a, ah, TRL and a JSP in here?" she asked quickly.

"Yeah, that's us, probably," Teddy said, brow furrowing in confusion. Why was someone using their initials?

Looking relieved, the woman placed a sealed envelope on the table. "Um, good. This was left on the counter for you, sirs."

The two men watched as she left with clumsiness to rival Teddy's before resetting the privacy wards. "Who do you think it's from?" James asked, eyeing the envelope with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. People _had_ tried to blame him for his father's supposed crimes every now and then, after all.

Shrugging, Teddy performed a few detection spells to check it for curses and dangerous substances. Finding nothing magic related, he levitated it with his wand so James could open it and lift the letter out with his wand. There could still be muggle traps, after all.

Upon seeing a harmless looking piece of parchment hanging in mid-air, Teddy grabbed it and began to read, James walking over to the other side of the table to read over his shoulder.

_Dear Teddy and James,_

_If you aren't doing so already, please ensure you're reading this in private._

_I know neither of you will remember me, especially you, James. My name is Nymphadora Lupin, although I was born a Tonks. Yes, Teddy, I'm your mother. And no, I'm sorry, but I'm not alive. And I can't contact you again either. I can only send you this letter because it's about someone whom I and Remus have been given full responsibility over. Well, mostly full responsibility, but… ugh, sod it._

_Before you begin to doubt my identity, Remus spent over a year trying to dissuade me by claiming to be a monster that's too old for me and that I need someone 'young and whole'. I managed to pull him away from that point of view after an attack on Hogwarts during James' father's sixth year, just after Dumbledore died, in the Hospital Wing after Fleur Delacour's fiancée, Bill Weasley, was attacked by a werewolf when it wasn't the full moon._

_If that isn't enough, James' grandfather and Teddy's father were part of a little prankster group known as the Marauders, along with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. They and James Potter I became illegal animagi to help Remus with his full moons. James – Prongs – was a stag, Sirius – Padfoot – was a large, black dog, and Peter – Wormtail – was a rat. God knows how only Wormtail was exposed during his trial._

_Anyway, when Harry was given the Dementor's Kiss, I worked some magic to give him a second chance at life. You know how the Dementor disappeared after George was given the Kiss? I got them to do the same thing. They are both now in a parallel world with not that many differences from our own, in the year 1986. I sent some others as well, of course. Wouldn't want them to get lonely, eh?_

_Teddy, Remus and I died trying to make the world a better place for you to live. I suppose we failed you, in a way, much like how everyone failed Harry. We're sorry, and we're so proud of you. Harry was feeling constant guilt over the fact that he believes he's ruined your lives by being sent to Azkaban, but we hope to give him a chance to forgive himself and live a happy life. That's what we've been trying to do, with permission from higher up (don't ask about how the afterlife works, dears, it confuses me a bit as well), because Harry's bad luck is deadly obese compared to his good luck, which is deadly thin. If it were self-inflicted, it would be anorexic._

_We just thought you should know that your father and godfather is in safe hands, and has a chance to live. Tell those you trust, but not the Ministry – well, apart from Hermione, obviously._

_Both Remus and I and Harry are proud of you. _

_Love,_

_Tonks/mum_


	4. Darkness and Flames

**EDIT (10/07/2014): Fixed spelling errors**

* * *

Albus Dumbledore blinked to find himself behind his desk in his old Headmaster's office at Hogwarts and smiled. Oh, how he missed this place. He looked over to Fawkes and stretched a hand out to stroke his neck, and the crimson phoenix leaned into the touch and hummed cheerfully.

It was good to be back.

However, there was a reason he was here, he remembered, and his cheer was wiped away instantly. Nymphadora Tonks had told him that he was the only one of those going to the parallel dimension that she was telling Harry's full but not too detailed tale to, in the hopes that he wouldn't try to manipulate him again.

And she was right to do so. Albus had begun to regret ever having manipulated to bright-eyed boy's life the moment he'd seen him walking in to the Great Hall for his sorting. Beforehand, he'd been able to pretend Harry didn't exist except for a few minor incidents and Arabella's reports, but now that he was right before him, he'd begun to regret his decision. And not just because he was obviously malnourished, either. It was those eyes that did it, as they surveyed the entire Hall with curiosity. It had been impossible to think of him as a chess piece after that.

But he'd been determined to see this through, even as it became harder throughout the years. He should have trained him, he knew, but the part of him that just wanted Harry to have a good life kept winning against the part in favour of Albus' continued manipulations. He should have told Harry of the Prophecy so long ago, he knew, but he just couldn't. He cared for him too much.

And yet, in his determination to win the war, he'd continued to act on his plans. Only once he'd been shown what had become of him before and afterwards had he ever truly regretted it. He'd ruined the child's entire life. Nearly fifty years of anguish he'd given him. No more. He was going to act in Harry's best interests this time, and he was going to listen.

And he would apologise the first time he could.

It was Harry's sixth birthday today. He smiled sadly, happy that he had lived another year, but sad at the thought that his birthday was no different from any other day at the Dursleys' apart from obtaining a new sock or two and a good few new bruises. He wouldn't even try to keep Harry there this time, though, especially while recovering from Azkaban.

He nodded to himself, determined. He would free Sirius, and then he would bring Harry to him. They could recover together, and experience the years they should have had together. He rather hoped that Sirius was sent here as well, for it would help Harry greatly.

* * *

When Harry came to, it was dark, and he felt very small. The room he was in was not that much larger than himself, and smelled of wood, carpet, sweat and blood. Pain and loneliness radiated off of the walls, and feeling around, Harry realised where he was.

The cupboard under the stairs.

_How the bloody hell did I get here? _He mused to himself. The last thing he remembered was waking up from the Dementor effects suddenly by a familiar voice that told him to look up, where he saw a light.

It all suddenly came flooding back to him. His childhood, Hogwarts, the war, the events after the war, the incident he would never speak of, the trial, his imprisonment, the light, the Kiss… and his conversation with Remus and Tonks.

He whined softly at the care they showed him, which just thinking about blinded him with pain. They'd given him another chance, a chance to live, without potentially erasing Teddy and James from existence in the process. They'd saved him. They sent him to his six year-old body that wouldn't have to recover from overexposure to the Dementors to think clearly. He would still have to recover emotionally, but that was beside the point. He knew he would be eternally grateful to them, but he couldn't do so properly while he still had his bloody god damned curse scar!

Yelling out in frustration, he punched the walls either side of him. The stupid curse had followed him here! How was he supposed to live life properly when he couldn't feel any form of affection towards others without experiencing pain in his chest as bad as the cruciatus? There had to be a way to fix it, there had to be! His back straightened with an epiphany. Dumbledore! He may have manipulated him into becoming a warrior, but Dumbledore was knowledgeable, skilled, powerful, and had contacts. He could go to him!

But then he frowned. He would have to let Dumbledore in on the secret if he were to go to him. Heck, he'd have to let anyone he went to in on the secret if he wanted help. He'd probably have to tell tonnes of people when he appeared to have heart attacks all over the place. Not that he knew what a heart attack looked like, mind you, but-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. How old was he again? Six, this should be his sixth birthday, and judging by how quiet it sounded outside the house, it was late at night. Who would be coming in now? He tried to remember, but his memory of this day was a bit off. It was like something was missing. He'd previously dismissed it, thinking that maybe Remus tried to visit, hence why Vernon was blaming him for his… _thing_ having shrunk the next morning. _Well, _he thought. _I guess I'm about to find out._

He could tell the newcomer in the house was Vernon from the sound of the heavy breaths he was making. Only someone of his size could sound like that. The man seemed to be muttering something about 'freaks' and having 'just about had enough' of something. Harry tensed; something had happened, and Vernon was blaming Harry for it. That meant that a beating was approaching, or hopefully just a week without food. Or maybe both. He hoped it wasn't both.

Harry wouldn't be so worried, but Tonks had explained that he would be feeling extremely tired magically for a few days when he first arrives, and he hadn't had any practice with magic in, what was it? Twenty-six years? He didn't stand a chance of defending himself, and he was panicking. This was meant to be a second chance! Why was he at the hands of his abusive relatives again?

He heard the bolt on his door being slid back, and before he knew it, the door was wide open. A shiver ran down his spine as he caught the overwhelming stench of alcohol. Vernon was drunk, at night. There would be no Petunia to prevent him from murdering him. He was going to die. He'd never even have a chance to live a new life. This must have been one of the differences between the worlds, because Harry certainly couldn't remember a beating in the middle of the night on his sixth birthday.

Vernon growled and pulled him out of the cupboard with a tight grip on his arm, dragging him to the living room. Upon entrance, he was thrown across the room, and Vernon shut the door before tripping up and landing on him. He felt several bones crack under the sheer force and weight, and could hardly breathe until Vernon managed to get himself off of him.

"You dirty little freak," Vernon whispered. "You made my car drive too fast. I had to pay a fine because of you! Three hundred pounds!" he spat, sending spittle all over Harry's face.

But Harry was too weak to do anything, and he hadn't had a reason to argue with someone in twenty-six years. So he just looked at him, trying not to show his pain.

A heavy force slammed across his cheek, followed by a blow to the stomach, causing him to throw up what little he'd had to eat the previous day (hardly anything). "And now you dirty my carpet," the obese man growled, twisting Harry's left arm so that it broke in multiple places. He couldn't help but whimper a bit at that, which earned him an extra forceful twist that dislocated his shoulder. "We should never have brought you in, you little freak, you. Always making our lives worse. Well, I've had enough. I'm finished with you!" he grabbed his belt and slammed it across Harry's stomach. He then felt the man's breath incredibly close to his ear. "And I'll be having myself some fun, too."

Harry paled, flashbacks of unwanted memories haunting him as he was flipped onto his back. _No, _he begged. _No, not that. Anything but that, kill me, but not that!_

His begging became vocal as he felt a hand pulling down his baggy jeans. He begged for him to stop. He told him he would do anything else, anything. That he would take all the punishments in the world, just _not that. _

His please were met by deaf ears, however, leaving him begging for death.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was in his office, forming plans to save Sirius by talking to Fawkes. The phoenix was most helpful, glaring, nodding, and trilling his comments for him to interpret. He briefly wondered where the phoenix had flown off to after his death.

They were discussing the pros and cons of abducting Wormtail from the Weasleys and planting him on Amelia Bones' desk with a note when two separate alarms went off. Albus paled, realising that one signified the Blood Wards at Privet Drive weakening dangerously and the other warning him of Harry's life being in danger. He then remembered what had happened on his sixth birthday and his eyes widened in horror.

He turned to Fawkes, who also seemed to realise the weight of the situation and quickly flew off of his perch towards him to flash them away.

The next thing he knew, he was in the entrance hall of Number Four Privet Drive. It was almost completely silent except for the quiet sound of a child begging for mercy and death in the living room. Drawing his wand, hoping he had enough energy to cast a few simple spells at least, he ran towards the sound. Fawkes flew at the door with such force it blasted open, and Albus took the moment of Vernon's surprise to stun him and fling the filth across the room.

Rushing to the side of a trembling and sobbing Harry, Albus covered him up and brought him into a gentle hug. "It's okay, Harry, he won't hurt you anymore," he murmured when the boy flinched and tried to pull away. "It's Albus Dumbledore. I'm so sorry for letting you hurt, Harry. I promise you, no more trickery. I'm going to make sure you live a good life."

Little did he know his soft words were causing him even more pain.


	5. Assessments and Awakenings

**A/N:** Hello, sorry for the delay. Been doing a lot of planning for the years to come. Expect some revisions of previous chapters with spelling fixes soon... for some reason the spell checker missed some things.

* * *

"Fawkes, take us to the hospital wing, please, and warn Poppy of our arrival." Albus said, tightening his grasp on the whimpering child. Within a few seconds, they were transported away in a burst of flame, rematerialising next to an empty bed in the far corner of the hospital wing. Fawkes was gone again in but a moment, and Albus, carefully so as to not disturb the wounds, lifted Harry into the bed and closed the curtains around said bed.

While he was warding the curtains so nobody would wander in or find out what they were doing, Madam Pomfrey was brought in by Fawkes, and she immediately began to assess Harry's wounds. She barely even registered who she was treating, thankfully, for astonishment would not help Harry's current situation.

After writing his school nurse a note to read once she was done, Albus returned to Privet Drive's living room with Fawkes. Last time, he had simply obliviated everyone of the incident after shrinking the item of offence and rendering both adult Dursleys incapable of… entertainment permanently, blindly assuming it was the alcohol talking with Vernon and that Harry's safety was far more important than the enjoyment of two people. His actions shamed him now, realising that Harry had been blamed for Vernon's sudden… lack of male pride, and that his idiotic 'Greater Good' scheme had been what ruined a boy's childhood and the lives of so many more in the catastrophes of the second war. Remus and Tonks had been right in the pink and purple place; he really should have just made sure Harry was capable of defending himself.

Turning to face the unconscious body of Harry's obese uncle, Albus contemplated what he should do this time. Removing the two of their ability to have 'fun' wouldn't be enough now, knowing of their further offenses. No…

He stunned the large man again just to be on the safe side before heading upstairs, stunning Petunia and the child, Dudley, if his memory served correctly, and levitating them downstairs. He then proceeded to bind them and place privacy wards on the room so the neighbours wouldn't alert the police before he woke them up.

"_Ennervate,"_ he said coldly. He was first greeted by surprised and confused glances, followed by a screech of terror from the woman and bellowing from the whale upon their sight of him. The bigger whale, that is; the smaller one was just confused.

"WHAT THE – I WILL NOT – GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, FREAK!" Vernon yelled. "POLICE! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!"

"I am afraid no one will be calling the police tonight, Mr Dursley," stated Albus firmly. "You have betrayed my trust in a most severe manner."

Vernon's face was so purple he looked like he might faint, blow up, or have a heart attack. Maybe all three. "How dare you," he barked. "We clothed him, we fed him, we gave him a room of his own! We gave the freak discipline! We did all you asked for!"

"I asked that he be treated like one of your own," Albus glared at each of them in turn. "Tell me, the child in between you-"

"Duddykins is not a freak." Petunia spat.

"I never said he was, Petunia. I merely wanted to know whether you keep _him _in a cupboard, granting him leave only to eat, work, or use the bathroom. I wanted to know whether you starve and beat him for things out of his control. I wanted to know whether you insult him. I wanted to know whether you beat and starve him for getting good grades. I wanted to know whether you rape him."

Petunia's eyes were wide as saucers. "I- beat? Ra-" she turned to her husband. "Vernon, tell me you didn't!"

Vernon had paled at the mention of his recent exploits, and now seemed to be struggling for an explanation. "It's, I… Petunia, I… It's… He made my car drive too fast! He made me pay a heavy fine! I couldn't help going to the pub, it's-"

"Save it," Petunia said venomously. She turned back to Albus and bit her lip. "I don't approve of my husband's actions, I assure you. I never resorted to violence, and I did tell him not to either. But I was jealous. I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it."

Albus sighed. It was no excuse for her actions, but even minor legilimency told him she felt remorse for her actions. She had turned her jealousy into hate, just like she had done to her sister. _Just like Ronald had done to Harry, _a voice in the back of his head reminded him.

Forcing himself from further stalling, he went to remove any evidence of Harry from the house, followed by the angry voice of Vernon telling him not to snoop about in his house. Much as he suspected, although it did still upset him, the only evidence of Harry's existence was in the cupboard under the stairs. The letter appeared to have been burned.

Albus had been told of the cupboard, but he had never seen it. He almost wished he hadn't. It smelled of stale air, sweat, and blood. There was a small piece of a thin mattress on the floor that was worn and looked as though the springs would dig in if you didn't lie correctly. It, too, was covered in blood, and looked as though Harry had wet himself on it a few times – nightmares, no doubt. Nothing recent, though, from the smell. The only other things in there were a few rags and some broken cheap plastic toys, no doubt salvaged from the dustbin, and a small carving in the wood of the door.

_Harry's Room, _it said.

Strengthening his occlumency shields to prevent an emotional outburst, he vanished the cupboard's contents, performed an air refreshing spell, and muttered "_Reparo_," to fix the carving in the door before he returned to the Dursleys. "You have disappointed me," was all he said before he stunned them all again. After levitating them back up to their rooms, he once again made Vernon and Petunia incapable of having 'fun' or more children, shrunk Vernon's plaything to an embarrassing size, and wiped their memories to make it seem as though Harry never lived with them.

He would have liked to do more, but Harry was still Harry, and he wouldn't want even them to be harmed. The only reason he didn't do anything to the child was because he knew he would have come to doubt his parents' actions in little more than ten years time had Harry remained. Instead, he made it seem to them as though Dudley had never been spoiled – he even removed many of the child's belongings – and left a compulsion charm on his parents to make sure they never did spoil him, for it only damages the child in the long run.

However, that didn't mean he wouldn't return for a little fun. Maybe he would bring Sirius in on the action. Oh yes. He hadn't had the chance to directly prank in years.

* * *

Upon his return to Hogwarts' hospital wing, he was greeted with the sight of a mostly healthy Harry and a worried looking Poppy. He found this odd, for last time the nurse had merely been angry at the child's abusers.

"Albus," Madam Pomfrey began before looking back at the sleeping child briefly. "Albus, I found something rather disturbing whilst working on Mr Potter."

Albus could only blink in confusion. This hadn't happened last time, and this time the damage should be less, for he had arrived earlier. What was going on? "Go on," he urged, becoming slightly worried himself.

The nurse gestured for him to follow her to the bed. She pulled back the covers slightly to reveal Harry's thin chest, and what he saw caused him to pale significantly. He had completely forgotten about that curse scar, along with how Tonks had said it was possible that it might find itself on Harry's new body. She hadn't been very specific about it, just told him how it caused him severe pain under certain circumstances. Looking at the runes, those 'circumstances' were whenever he felt cared for or felt even slight affection towards another. The ultimate torture when combined with Dementor exposure.

Madam Pomfrey noticed that Albus knew what the scar was. "Albus, my scans told me that this is a curse scar, but I have never seen anything like it. How did he get it?"

Albus licked his lips in consideration. While Madam Pomfrey knew occlumency as a requirement to attend to people's wounds, she was by no means a master. It was best not to let her know of Harry's past, lest the knowledge reach the wrong hands. While said knowledge was protected within the minds of those who were brought across, since some would apparently not be patient enough to learn the art (he had no idea whether this included Harry; that could have been all Severus' bad teaching for all he knew), should any of them impart that knowledge, it would be at risk.

"I am afraid that is confidential, Poppy," he began, but raised a hand when she began to protest. "But I assure you, I know what it is, and I have means of finding the counter-curse for it. While no doubt the scar shall remain forever, I can ensure that it becomes merely a scar."

Madam Pomfrey sighed, knowing she would get no more details from the headmaster. "I assume he will be taken into your care until you find fit carers for him?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, however, I would appreciate it if you were to keep his presence confidential."

She smiled sadly. "Don't worry about that, Albus. In fact, with the… extent of his injuries, it is well within his rights for him to have me obliviated to some extent."

"Indeed," Albus turned his attention to the sleeping form of Harry. "And I do thank you for your willingness to be obliviated should he so desire, Poppy." Last time, he had simply obliviated her of all knowledge that Harry had even been there. This time, however, this would not be the case.

Madam Pomfrey nodded sternly, regaining her nurse's mask. "I assume you'll be wanting a full list of his injuries if you're going to be taking care of him for a while?"

Albus smiled. For some reason she had been among the few who could read him well. Harry was one of them. He already knew the extent of the injuries from last time, but he hoped they would be lesser this time. "It would be appreciated, Poppy."

She nodded again before looking through sheets of parchment on her clipboard. "Injury-wise, there was a large assortment of bruises in various sizes and stages, several cuts – they didn't appear self-inflicted, by the way, although some on his back and stomach appear to be from a belt – a gash across his left cheek from what appears to be a ring, two broken ribs, three cracked ribs, multiple breaks and cracks in his left arm, which is dislocated at the shoulder, multiple broken bones that didn't heal properly, and some severe internal damage caused by sexual assault from an adult that would have been fatal had you delayed much in bringing him here. Then there's the curse scar, and some rather nasty malnutrition that has caused him to be weaker and shorter than he should be. As for the emotional damage..." she paused and glanced towards the sleeping child. "You should expect anything from loss of memory to flashbacks to a simple case of depression. Either way, it's unlikely he'll be emotionally unscathed."

He had expected as much, but now he knew the boy better, it affected him more. Had he not mastered occlumency, he would no doubt have broken down from guilt. "How long will he need to remain here?"

"Well, most of the damage is repaired, but he'll be stuck in bed until around mid-day so the skele-gro can do its job. I gave him a sufficient dose of dreamless sleep. He'll need to re-apply cream to some of the worse bruises for a few more days no doubt, and I'll prepare a potions schedule to help him heal from the malnutrition in the morning. In theory, you'll be able to take him away as soon as he wakes up, but we might run into more issues for all we know. Come along around eleven if you want to be there when he awakes."

Albus smiled at the nurse. "Thank you Poppy, you have been most helpful."

"My pleasure, Albus," she smiled back, before becoming the woman who discourages students from injuring themselves at all. "Now, get out! Healers need sleep too, you know."

Allowing himself to be scooted out of the hospital wing, Albus returned to his office. It was only when he had entered his private quarters through a hidden door that he let his occlumency barriers drop.

That night, for the first time in years, Albus Dumbledore cried himself to sleep.

Or rather, he lay in bed having a good sob for about an hour before Fawkes got sick of it and sang him to sleep. But no need to tell old Alby that, he might blush. Who knows what he gets up to with that phoenix after all… what with his brother's fondness for goats.

Unfortunately for him, though, phoenixes don't mate. So he's stuffed. Maybe he can get a blowjob from the bird?

…On the other hand, maybe Fawkes would rather burn the wizard into cinders. Oh well. A new pairing has been invented.

* * *

While Harry may have spent his first night back in a traumatic experience, when two redheads jumped awake in Ottery St. Catchpole, the first thing they did was turn towards each other and, after gazing at each other in wonder for a few seconds (one at the other's non-missing ear, the other at his counterpart's aliveness), pounced on each other simultaneously in a hug, landing in the middle of the floor with a loud crash.

Unfortunately, their mother woke up and started yelling at them for making an unnecessary racket. One of them seemed happy to see their mother, while the other, aware of her plotting, did his best to hide his distaste. Unfortunately for her, once the latter twin got the former informed, she would be one of their main prank targets.

* * *

At the same time, a man jolted awake in his cell. After cursing his luck at being landed with the Dementors again, he transformed before reviewing his instructions from his cousin's daughter. While it was tempting to escape there and then to give one little boy a hug, he knew it was vital for him to remain here until Dumbledore got him a trial.

The old man regretted his actions, apparently. Well, so long as he only had to stay with the cloaked bastards for a month at most.

* * *

In a tree, somewhere, a hatchling nearly fell out of her nest. She gave a pompous hoot before showing off her superior experience to her family by flapping up to a nearby branch and giving her siblings the owl equivalent of a raspberry.

But then her mother began hooting angrily for her recklessness and the owl glared at her. Sheesh, she should be proud of her prettiest daughter's skill!

* * *

In a dark forest, a young creature nearly woke up its mother as it, also, jolted awake. Snorting at the sight of the hideous female, it flew off to find a brighter forest where there were unicorns and centaurs and nicer fellow members of the species and a school of magic where a nice boy would go in a few years.

Sure, no one would realise her gender again, but what the hell? Her mother was convinced she was a gay albino peacock with a lisp anyway, anything's better than that.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a dark corridor, a cloaked figure jumped as though it had been pinched on the rear. Looking around, the figure shifted its weight to one leg to strike a sassy pose and wiggled its bony finger in the air. "Ah-ah. I'm not prowling around this place for the rest of eternity, bitches. Imma find my friend."

And with that, the figure flew out of a window, probably never to return.

* * *

**BONUS NON-STORY-COMPLIANT SHIT**

In the dark figure's wake, several other cloaked figures came to crowd around the window. Once the figure's form was no longer visible one of the taller figures spoke up. "Holy shit guys, that one's just run off!"

"Yeah well, whoever it is'll just get chased back by the Ministry's bloody patronuses, won't it?" a shorter one grumbled.

"Oh, cut yeh whinin', Zeb!" snapped a figure to Zeb's left. "Just 'cause you don't have the balls!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!

"Then prove it!"

Zeb glanced from the window to the figure and back. "Bu-but there's _aurors _out there! And- and werewolves!"

"Werewolves can't hurt you, idiot."

"They're well scary, though." Zeb pouted.

"Have you ever even seen a bloody werewolf?"

"Uh…"

"There you go then."

"Can you guys shut up?" a voice came from a nearby room. "I'm on break and I'm tryin' to watch Emmerdale 'ere! I only get to see it five times a bloody day."

"Sorry Hazel," the arguing figures grumbled.

One of the taller figures looked up suddenly. "Hey guys, our shift just ended! Let's go watch Hollyoaks!"

Cheers erupted from the small crowd (and several screeches from Hazel). "Yeah, Hollyoaks is the best! Fuck Emmerdale!"

None of them bothered to mention that it hadn't even been invented yet.


	6. Rat and Anne

**A/N: Say, does anyone else feel like there should be some sort of limited reply function for the reviews? I've come across stories that are 70% the author replying to reviews. I hate scrolling through them.**

**Anyway, Guest, well done on guessing who the people were. Mr/Miss/Mrs/Ms Extended Experience, to clear up the confusion, it's Sirius, the twins, Hedwig, Buckbeak, and the Dementor shall be explained in this chapter. However, I'm not a git, so I'm not going to be mean and write a reply to every one individually here. That's just bloody annoying. I do, however, thank you all for your reviews. They cheer me up sometimes.**

* * *

As the hooded figure flew away excitedly from the island, a similar figure leaned out of a higher window. "Send my greetings to the boy, Anne!"

"Shut up, Baldrick."

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was standing invisible on a grassy hill, staring at a rather precarious looking structure. It was known as The Burrow, and was home to the Weasley family. And, although no one inside knew yet (to his knowledge, anyway), it was also 'home' to one Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail or Scabbers the rat. Although it was more of a hidey-hole for him to be fair.

It was nearing dawn, and Albus, as a master occlumens, had already had his necessary two hours of sleep. His eyes were still sore from crying himself to said state (although we know better), but he had awoken with a plan.

His grand plan was to levitate himself up to Percy's window, place a powerful delayed compulsion charm on the blasted rat that had troubled Harry for so long, and then wait out here, still invisible, for the rodent to show up. Genius. It was so _simple, _apart from the wobbliness of self-levitation. He rather enjoyed the thought that most people would actually break into the house to achieve the same thing and get far worse results – finding Molly's knee colliding with a certain spot was just one of them.

The charm was placed, and soon, the rat would approach. He was rather giddy with anticipation; he wanted to do what he could to make up for messing up Harry, Sirius and Remus' lives, after all. He knew he wouldn't manage in his eyes – Harry's were another matter, the boy/man was too nice for his own good. Or he was, before Azkaban. Who knows now. Sirius didn't change that much, though, he just matured.

"Don't get your hopes up, Albus." he muttered to himself.

About five minutes later he saw a small figure rustling through the healthy green grass, and knowing it could be none other than the rat-from-hell, he stunned it. Picking it up, he grinned to himself. He was going to force a trial at the last minute in the next Wizengamot meeting. No one would dare oppose him then. His clever plan had worked out just fine.

It was then that he noticed two larger figures approaching, both humanoid. He quickly conjured a cage for the rat and locked him in after making it animagus-resistant and unbreakable, then charmed it invisible as well.

As the figures grew closer, Albus began to recognise them. They were none other than the eight year-old forms of Fred and George Weasley, and they seemed to be scanning the ground ahead.

"I swear, I'm going to catch that bloody rat, George,"

"_How_ we looked up to the bastard for so many years, I will never know, Fred,"

"Where'd he go, anyway?"

"You lost sight of him?"

"Well, I can't see him,"

"Good morning, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley," Albus said cheerfully, eyes twinkling, removing the invisibility charms from himself and the cage, knowing from their words that they had come along as well. He almost laughed at the wide-eyed looks on their faces.

"Err… Morning, Professor,"

"Good day, sir,"

Albus kept smiling at them. "And what might you two be up to this early in the morning?"

The two exchanged a glance. "Well, we were kind of chasing after that rat, you see,"

"Traitor, that one,"

"Shut up, Forge," one of them whispered harshly to the other. "And it kind of led us here."

Their past and future headmaster nodded. "Not to worry, boys, I was merely fooling with you. I know who the rat is."

The twins' eyes lit up. "You know?"

"Then you must have moved across too!"

They paused for a second. "Right?" They finished together, looking mildly uncertain all of a sudden.

Albus let his eyes twinkle merrily. "Indeed. I came here for Mr Pettigrew, and I seem to have succeeded."

The twin on the left looked at Albus weirdly, but not in a bad way. "Did you put a compulsion charm on him, sir?" he asked. Probably George, if he came to that conclusion so quickly. Fred wouldn't be used to the information overload yet.

"Indeed I did, George," his eyes twinkled brighter at their mild surprise. He didn't even use legilimency. "Tell me, Fred, how is your link going?"

Fred blushed slightly. "Still getting used to the info overload… and recovering from seeing _him_ do things to a girl. From his point of view."

George was the one blushing now. "Whoops, forgot about that," he grinned. "Are you proud of Fred Junior?"

"I believe I am, George Senior,"

"Eh?" The twin in question blinked.

Fred grinned. "If I have kids, my firstborn will be called George Junior."

Albus chuckled at the twins' antics. "Well, I'd better be off now, boys. Don't worry, I have a plan for your rodent," he stared at them in the eye over his glasses. "Now, go to bed. You're magically exhausted, and you'll want to prank your family come dawn, I'm sure."

And with that, he disappeared in a burst of flames.

George turned to Fred. "Did we even see Fawkes?"

* * *

Upon reappearing in his office, Albus jumped at two things. One was his mildly pissed off phoenix friend, who might be a little mad at the amount of times he's had to help Albus in the last few hours. The other was at the sight of another person in his office, sitting casually in one of his chairs, face covered by a ragged hood. If it weren't for the fact that Albus couldn't hear Ariana, he would have thought the figure a Dementor.

Realising they had company, the person looked up slightly, and a deep male voice came from beneath his hood. "Ah, you're here at last. Bloody hell, finally…"

Albus fingered his wand cautiously; most people who went around wearing black cloaks that hid the face were Death Eaters. "And you are…?"

"Anne,"

The old man actually had to get his head around this fact. "Anne?"

"Anne,"

"_Anne_?"

"Yes, Anne, what were you expecting, Anna?" The figure shuddered. "Eurgh, foul name."

Albus was thoroughly confused. "Anne what, exactly?"

"Just Anne," the figure replied.

"Just Anne?"

"Are you brain-dead?" the hooded figure snapped. "Seriously, stop repeating everything I say!"

"But… who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Anne,"

Albus drew in a breath in frustration. "Yes, but that doesn't exactly explain anything to me."

He could have sworn the figure raised an eyebrow. "I'm a Dementor."

His eyebrows creased together. "No, you're not,"

"Yes, I am,"

"But you aren't giving off that aura of misery, I'm not cold, and you're _talking_!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, that's something we do quite frequently on our breaks," the figure stated in amusement. "Although we don't do that in English."

"How _are_ you speaking English, anyway?"

"How can Harry Potter speak Dementor?"

Albus gaped. "Harry Potter cannot speak Dementor!"

"He can," the figure said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at him as if to prove a point. "And so can George Weasley. It's a part of how they got here."

The headmaster's head tilted to the side in silent contemplation. What did those two have in common? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fawkes ruffle his feathers and shake his head in annoyance. The bird had probably figured it out already. Finally giving up, he asked his next question. "What do you mean by 'how they got here'?"

The figure shifted its neck, and Albus cringed at the sound of a neck cracking. "Oh, that's better," Anne sighed. "Anyway, tell me; how did George Weasley and Harry Potter leave their original worlds?"

It hit him like a stack of bricks from the top of a fifty floor building. "They were Kissed!"

"Exactly," the figure nodded. "Only they Kissed us back, preventing their souls from being destroyed, allowing them to move to the afterlife and not fade from existence."

Albus was still confused, though. "What has this got to do with you, then?"

He could have sworn the Dementor grinned. "I'm the Dementor Harry Kissed back.

"You see, we Dementors aren't a happy bunch. We were cursed to be like this by a pureblood obsessed madman over a thousand years ago. Bit like Voldemort in that sense, only he was more focused on ruining lives than the whole world-domination thing. He was looking for experiments, see, so pureblooded families gave up their unwanted squib children to him."

"Well, that's not very nice," Albus frowned.

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Things such as this still happen, you know. It's just that you never notice because the squibs are kept a secret. May I carry on?"

"Of course, of course."

"Good. Well, he reduced us to miserable beings with merely base instincts; to feed and survive. We couldn't even remember who or what we once were.

"Our survival instinct took over and one of us sucked the soul out of the man as soon as they could get out. Said Dementor released us, seeing that we were kin, and we raided his cloak storage for disguise – why he had that many cloaks, no one will ever know. Maybe he planned on us getting out.

"The trouble was we had been cursed to be miserable. We craved happiness, so we fed upon the happy memories of other beings to try and satisfy that need. We don't really need it; the madman somehow made us immortal. God knows how he managed that. But we crave it. We tried to touch others, longing for it, but they would shy away in fear at the touch of our, cold, rotten fingers.

"We went on like that for ages, trying to get humans to touch us. Some of us would become desperate and forcibly kiss them, which left the victim a soulless husk. We figured out after a while that Kissing isn't a great idea, as it reduces 'food' stock, so we did our best to restrain ourselves, but all we wanted was for someone to touch us willingly. We just wanted to be happy.

"Another time a Dementor got desperate, they actually raped someone. The very first Lethifold was the result, and let me tell you, that Liverpool wench who gave birth to it nearly had a heart attack at the sight of the cloak that had slipped out of her-"

"Yes, yes, no need to get into detail, thank you," Albus said quickly, mildly disturbed. He would no doubt have nightmares after this.

Anne just grinned. "Sorry, Alb," she laughed. "Anyway, then the wizards, realising that we couldn't be killed, made us an offer; leave them alone, and we would have a large stock of humans to 'feed' from; the prisoners of Azkaban.

"And so we went there, but even now, no one has truly tried to make us happy. No one has touched us willingly, except for three young gentlemen, one of which came about over three hundred years ago and just wanted to rebel at the end. After seeing said Dementor disappear, we became worried about what would happen if we were happy, but we still craved it."

Albus stared at the Dementor. All these years they had wondered where on earth the Dementors had come from and whether they were related to the Lethifold, and the answers were right under their noses. "What has this got to do with Harry and George?"

He could have sworn it grinned again. "They Kissed a Dementor back. The horror of what we had become killed us, and so they brought said Dementors to the afterlife with them, and in return, we were sent here with them. Unintentional, I assure you, but we've got a sort of, ah… _connection_, now."

"Connection?" He didn't like the sound of this. In fact, he nearly freaked out when the Dementor pulled down its hood, revealing its face. But it wasn't what they say a Dementor looks like under its hood; no, this one looked much more human and less rotten. It had warm honey-brown eyes that were bright with amusement, and the face held an oddly feminine structure. In fact, was that hair beginning to grow out of its scalp?

"The willing touch of a human made us more like our old selves, Baldrick and I," she smiled. It seemed somewhat familiar to Albus. "We're less ugly, can speak English again, we have emotions, we can remember who we used to be, and have control over our Dementor powers. It is my belief that, should humans keep on touching us willingly, we will eventually be human and mortal again. Heck, you could probably kill me right now."

Albus' eyes were twinkling. Oh yes, the old man loved this sort of thing, and Fawkes was cringing on his perch. Why would he claim that 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' is love? Because he's a hopeless romantic and a complete and total idiot, that's why. Yes, Voldemort has no idea what love is like, but neither do many other people out there who turned into perfectly normal people. Well, on the outside, anyway.

Anne seemed to notice this as well, and grew worried. "Uh, please don't rape me."

The phoenix shook his head in amusement, while Albus was torn between laughing and sinking into a small bout of depression from recent events. Eventually he just settled for smiling lightly and assuring the Dementor that he wasn't going to.

"Good, good. I don't think it would work if one party were unwilling anyway," Anne said, seemingly to himself.

Albus tried to get his head back round to important matters. "So, Anne," he began. "Might I ask you a few questions?"

"Go ahead," Anne said, waving his arm dismissively.

"You have the voice of a man, and yet you have the name of a woman-"

"I'm female," Anne snapped. "The madman switched our voices around as a joke. This voice belonged to a squib Malfoy many generations ago."

Albus' eyes twinkled in amusement. Although whether it was at Anne's voice predicament or the thought of a squib Malfoy, Anne would likely never know. "I apologise, Anne. It must be hard to use someone else's voice and know someone else is using yours."

She snorted. "Yeah, and I know _exactly_ who has it."

"Might I inquire whom?"

"Baldrick," Anne sneered. "What are those yellow things there?" she inquired, pointing at his lemon drops.

"Lemon drops, you're welcome to try one," he answered distractedly. "May I ask who this Baldrick is?"

Sucking on a sweet, Anne grimaced. Although whether it was at the thought of her fellow Dementor or the lemon drop, we will likely never know. "Possibly the most idiotic Dementor to have ever lived. He was the squib child of a certain Blackadder family, and once he was disowned, was used as a slave by his brother, Edmond. He always came up with these 'cunning plans' to get his brother out of trouble, but said plans always got him into even worse trouble. Naturally, when the madman offered to buy unwanted squibs, Edmond happily sold him. I don't blame him, though; idiot can't count, never mind get his name right."

"Did the madman have a name?" Albus asked.

The woman squinted as though trying to remember something from a long time ago. Which she was. "I believe he was referred to as Myrnin, and I believe he may have been a vampire, judging by how frequently he drank from mugs of red liquid," she glanced at him before adding "Yes, vampires have souls."

Albus nodded. "What will this 'connection' between you and Harry, and… Baldrick and George mean for them?"

She leaned back in consideration. "I'm not sure, to be fair. I mean, the speaking Dementor bit was just guess-work, but-"

She never got to finish her sentence, as at that very moment, the translucent form of Tonks appeared on the seat next to her. "Wotcher Dumbledore, Anne," she said, grinning. "I have the answers to your question here."

The Dementor stared at her. "You're that pink woman from the pink and purple place."

"That's Tonks, git," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you going to ask me, then?"

"What?"

She grinned even wider. "What the 'connection' will mean for Harrikins and Georgie?"

Anne chocked a laugh back, while Albus' eyes just twinkled brightly. "Yes, do tell us."

A wine glass appeared in Tonks' hand, and she swished it around regally for effect. "Well, they're going to be a bit Dementor-y, aren't they?"

Her comment was met with silence.

"In what way?" Albus asked, growing worried. What if Harry began to rot?

"Well, nothing physically, although there is a possibility that they'll grow to be unnaturally fond of cloaks," Tonks began, and Albus sighed in relief. "I normally wouldn't tell you any of this and leave the two to figure it out themselves, but if Harry can't control it, it'll probably just give him one more thing to hate himself over; making everyone depressed," she warned. "They'll receive a minor boost in magical power. Not a big one, just minor. It's only there to sustain the other abilities they'll get." She said, looking smug that the great Albus Dumbledore was looking to her for answers instead of the other way around.

"And?" Albus said impatiently.

"Well, as you've already covered with Anne, they'll be able to speak to Dementors. It works like parsletongue; it'll sound like English to them, but to others it'll sound like rattling breath," she yelped suddenly as she spilled some drink from her glass. "And they'll have a controllable Dementor aura, like Anne – you can use the depression and cold separately now, by the way, since you have a clearer head – which will only affect those around them."

Anne whistled softly, obviously impressed. Albus, however, was considering something else. "Do you think this will affect Fred as well? The twins seem to have each other's memories through their twin connection, so will they share abilities?"

Tonks cocked her head to the side in consideration. "Probably," she said in a tone that said she wasn't all that bothered. "But keep in mind that they won't have access to any of this until you've taken their blocks off."

The metamorphmagus faded away, leaving a mildly alarmed Albus and a very confused Dementor.

"Blocks?" Anne asked, turning back to the man.

Albus nodded, still staring at the spot where Tonks faded away. "Magical blocks. They're blocks placed on a wizard or witch's magical core to limit or remove their ability to use magic," he pursed his lips in consideration. "I know I placed two on Harry, and one on each of the twins, but considering the strength of the accidental magic Harry performed as a child, I assumed he'd broken them himself."

Harry's last kiss glared at him from across the desk. "Why would you do that, idiot?"

"For good reason," Albus began. "The first one on Harry, and the ones on the twins, were requested by their parents. It is a common practice, and allows parents to relax a little since they're not constantly worrying about accidental magic," he chuckled. "The Potters weren't planning on placing one, but Harry's accidental magic was so strong and frequent they couldn't cope."

Anne frowned. "Well, I suppose there's good reason there. But what of the other one?"

He smiled sadly, remembering the night he'd dropped Harry off at the Dursleys. "I placed that one on Harry to reduce his accidental magic to simple things, such as changing the colours of toys, so as to not scare his relatives too much. He's done some remarkable things, though, so either I made a mistake somewhere or he managed to partially break one or both."

"Well, I can't blame you for doing so," Anne sighed. "When are you going to do it?"

"Not yet," he answered, stroking his beard. "You heard Tonks; once they're off, Harry will have access to Dementor powers. I'd rather leave that until he is at least partially recovered."

The cloaked woman nodded slowly. "You have a point," she murmured. "So, what are you going to do now?"

His face hardened. "For now," he said, turning towards the stunned rat in a cage on his desk that had until then remained ignored. "I will leave Wormtail here until I have figured out a counter-curse, or at least a temporary solution for Harry's curse scar."

Anne's back was straight all of a sudden, the Dementor attentive. "You mean the thing that caused him severe pain during his time in prison? He still has it?"

"Indeed, it carried over," Albus muttered, sounding oddly hateful. "And it still works."

"I'll help you find something. I used to hide in the library for hours on end as a human."

He nodded gratefully. "You take the left, I'll take the right. Now, the curse scar causes him to…"

As Albus described the scar to the bookworm Dementor, Fawkes grew bored. He didn't enjoy carrying the headmaster all over the place, but he didn't enjoy sitting in one spot for hours on end, either. He briefly wondered if the idiot headmaster would consider phoenix tears at all, and shook his head with the phoenix version of a snort. Of course he wouldn't; for someone who spends so much time around a phoenix, he sure does forget about them a lot.

He wondered whether he should try his theory out himself. Looking at the two figures searching through the old man's practically endless supply of books and journals, he made his decision. Yes, he would, if only because he's bored and they'll undoubtedly take forever.

Before he cleared off, he reached through the bars of the rat's cage to scratch it with his claws. Phoenixes did not like traitors. Oh no.

* * *

**A/N: Me again, sorry. I just wanted to ask; what do you suppose happens when someone is injured in animagus form and transforms back? Is the wound the same size, or does it enlarge/become smaller? I'm thinking with Pettigrew that it remains the same size but cuts through his clothes, but suppose your animagus form is bigger than you and the injury is bigger than you... would you become a big massive injury or what?**


	7. Rainbow Kisses and Rooty Poultry

**A/N:** Sincerest apologies, ladies and gents, boys and girls, and those in between. I just went through a brief depressive phase that prevented me from writing anything not depressing. Not that I managed anything decent that's depressing; I tried twice, I think. Well, the most recent attempt is okay... I'll wait a bit before doing anything, though.

So, yeah. Sorry! I was emotionally neglected - well, that's what I call it - as a kid. My parents were the sort that just give you presents and expect you to be happy. No compliments, no hugs, just materials. You get lonely after a while.

* * *

Once Fred and George reached their room without being caught, George, with a lot of effort, wandlessly set up a basic privacy charm. He had learned wandless magic with Harry after the war, and although Harry turned out to be quite good at it, he'd never managed much beyond the basics.

The twins began to plot. Now that Scabbers was out of the way – something they had considered somewhat of a priority – they could plan out other things as well.

First, they would have to sort out an antidote for their father. George, with some help from Harry and Hermione, had invented a permanent love potion cure. Take it once, no love potion will affect you. Side effects include a slight increase in mental resistance. They would have to steal his money to get the ingredients, but it was for his sake. They just didn't know when to give it to him.

Secondly, they would have to re-invent the extendable ears. They planned to order ingredients for those through Harry, considering the cost as an investment in their future company. What did they need the ears for, you ask? To eavesdrop on their 'mother', Ginny and Ron to find out their plans for Harry. They knew they'd never manage to fix the two kids' obsessions, so they weren't even going to try. They'd tried from the beginning, but it was no use.

Third, they would need to work towards becoming animagi. They'd have to figure out how first, but they hoped to become a part of the second generation of Marauders this time around, hopefully with Harry. He'd been rather creative towards the end.

Fourth, they would prank the hell out of the three traitors in the house. And that didn't include Percy, in fact, they felt that if anyone could be fixed, it was him. Maybe they could let him in on the traitors' secrets…

Fifth, they were going to sneak peeks at _The Daily Prophet_. They wanted to know how Sirius' trial went as soon as possible.

Sixth, they would review every action of their mother's. They already knew she had the spare Potter Trust Vault key Dumbledore never found, they just needed to find it and send it to Harry. Then again, if they were to owl Harry about it, maybe the goblins would find a way of performing their own justice like last time?

"You know, it's lucky she only has the Trust Vault key." Fred commented.

With a Trust Vault key, she could only withdraw so much a year. If she had the main vault key, she could have taken all of Harry's money instantly. With the Heirloom Vault key, she could have tricked Harry into putting on his family wedding ring, which would have instantly given Ginny access to all of his vaults.

And so, they decided to write Harry a good long letter.

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey was back in bed when Fawkes flashed onto a perch just below the ceiling of the hospital wing. After checking one more time that he was alone with Harry, he flew down to his bed. Albus, idiotically, hadn't taken flying into consideration when he placed the wards around Harry's bed, so he could fly down easily. Once again, Fawkes shook his head at his friend's stupidity. Great wizard his arse! Even the man-turned-kid here would have thought of flight.

He gently popped open the buttons at the top of Harry's hospital robes so he could get a look at this damned curse scar. Seeing the blasted thing, he snorted at the simplicity of it. How could that idiot not think of a counter-curse on the spot? It was just a ring filled with a circle of runes placed there by a simple primitive Rune Marker from the early Middle Ages!

A Rune Marker was a metal pole enchanted to brand something with a certain set of runes in scar form – hence the primitiveness. It even left an unnecessary circular scar in the middle of whatever it leaves, reducing the effectiveness and reliability of the curse.

The phoenix sighed. There was an advantage to the said curse method, of course; they don't wear off. Thankfully, the Ministry had banned them a few hundred years ago, but if this was any proof, then they must have kept a few around. He wondered if that was actually legal.

However, this didn't mean that Fawkes' tears would be useless; oh no, he knew they would work to an extent now. To what extent, he did not know, but it would make it easier on the boy at least.

Fawkes bent his head over the boy's chest and willed the tears to come. They came as easily as the time he'd cried on his arm in the Chamber, and he briefly pondered why no one had thought to consider the possibility that he had come back as well. He was a bloody phoenix! Of course he was sent back! But nooo, Fawkes would never come back, he's not human. Maybe some other creature that came back would come to the right conclusion. Heck maybe Harry would, he'd always been more in tune with Fawkes' thoughts than Albus, after all, and he was supposed to be the blasted man's familiar. He had to exaggerate his movements for the old man to understand him.

The curse scar had lost some of its reddish tint by now and wasn't changing further, so Fawkes cut the leakage. He would find out later how well he had helped the fifty turned six year-old. For now, he needed a nap.

* * *

_"Harry?"_

_Harry woke up to find himself looking into the eyes of a blurry red-head. Flashbacks of the incident not so long ago overwhelmed him for how long he knew not, but found himself being brought back by the feeling of glasses being slipped on his face and the sound of a concerned, mildly high-pitched voice._

_"…George?"_

_The now clear figure smiled. "Hello, Harry," he said, helping Harry sit up in Sirius' old bed. "I won't ask how you're feeling, because I already know you'll lie and say you're fine."_

* * *

"How is Harry doing, Poppy?"

* * *

_"Harry," George hesitated, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ginny's announced she's preggers."_

_Harry looked away. He knew it would happen sometime soon._

* * *

"Well, he hasn't woken up yet," a female voice broke through his dream. "But he should do soon."

* * *

_"She won't be able to use the kid, Harry," George said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I have a plan."_

_Harry looked up at him with tired eyes. "What?"_

_The last twin grinned. "It's a simple three step process,"_

* * *

"However long soon is, that is."

* * *

_The scene changed, and Harry was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, Dumbledore sitting on the side of his bed._

_"I'm so sorry, Harry-"_

_"I'm sorry, sir-"_

_They spoke at the same time, and ended up smiling sadly at each other. As the headmaster's face slowly drew closer, some part of Harry – the real part, most likely – was wondering what the fuck was going on._

_And then they started snogging. Very wet snogging. The headmaster was drooling all over the place._

_Then there was a bang, and suddenly Dumbledore was sitting on his backside a few metres away, Madam Pomfrey glaring at him with her wand in hand. "PAEDOPHILE!"_

_She waved her wand in a few obscure patterns, and suddenly Dumbledore was being washed away in a sea of rainbow swirls. _

_"Alby-Walby!" Harry cried._

_"Hawwy-Wawwy!" Dumbledore sobbed. By this point Dumbledore was being shoved out of the hospital wing doors, which had grown noses and were sneezing what looked like troll bogies on Dumbledore's robes. "I'LL FIND YOOOOOOOOOUUU!"_

* * *

"Did he just get a bit paler?" he heard Dumbledore's curious voice.

"Well, he's probably having nightmares, isn't he?" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Now move to the other side of the curtains, he'll probably wake up soon."

* * *

_Fawkes was in his face, flapping his wings wildly. "I'M A POTAAAAAAAAAATO!"_

* * *

"There we go, he's stirring," he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Madam Pomfrey's say.

Harry opened his eyes, but closed them again just as quickly. Too bright. Much too bright. And so very white.

"Oh, sorry about that, Harry," Madam Pomfrey's voice said, and he heard her mutter a spell. "There we go, the area's dim now."

He opened his eyes once more, and this time merely had to blink the sleepiness away. This place looked an awful lot like the hospital wing at Hogwarts. A bittersweet thought, to him; while this place reminded him of many bad things, the fact that it was a part of the first place he thought of as home comforted him.

Although the area seemed similar to that creepy dream he had earlier.

Looking around, his eyes fell on the form of Madam Pomfrey. She looked younger than he remembered her, but then again, this was about twenty years before he'd last seen her. In an alternative universe. Which was probably why she was smiling, not scowling. This certainly wasn't the same person who he'd just seen wash Albus Dumbledore out of the hospital wing with rainbows.

"You're in Hogwarts, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said slowly and gently. "Do you know where that is?"

He bit back an amused snort and nodded. It was weird being asked if you know about Hogwarts when you've known for nearly forty years.

The healer seemed to brighten up at this knowledge, though. "Ah, good," she exclaimed. "I assume that means you know of what is taught here as well, then?"

He nodded again. What was with these questions?

"Good, good, that means I don't have to worry about startling you, then," she said, starting to swish her wand over him, incanting things. _Well, _he thought, _at least that answers my question. Pretty obvious now I think about it._

Madam Pomfrey finished waving her wand about and smiled at him. "Good news; you'll be able to leave the wing in a few minutes. The only things left to sort out are the malnutrition – which isn't that bad - and the curse scar," she said, frowning as she mentioned the curse scar. She glanced at the open buttons at the top of his shirt, and her frown increased. "Albus?"

The old wizard poked his head through the curtain. "Everything alright, Poppy?" Harry remembered his dream and was caught between being amused and disturbed.

She turned her frown to him. "Look at his curse scar."

Dumbledore blinked before walking through the curtains and towards Harry to examine the scar. His forehead creased as he did so. "It's been weakened,"

"Exactly," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, bustling about, waving her wand some more. When she paused her activity, she had an amused look on her face. She turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, how's your phoenix lately?"

The headmaster blinked again in confusion. "Well, I haven't asked since I woke up, but he seemed fine."

"Are you sure he isn't depressed, Albus?" she asked, lips pursed in amusement.

Two blue eyes widened in horror. "Goodness, you don't think he is, do you? I've seen no signs," he looked away, stroking his beard in contemplation. "Oh dear, how did you figure it out, Poppy?"

Harry was certain that Madam Pomfrey was suppressing laughter at this point, although he had no idea why. "Well, only because there are traces of his tears on Harry's fancy little curse scar."

Dumbledore was glancing between Madam Pomfrey and Harry at this point, and even Harry was amused now that he understood the joke. A confused Dumbledore was a funny one, it seemed. "Oh,"

"Yes, 'Oh'," Madam Pomfrey snorted, pocketing her wand. "Although it could have been any phoenix, I just assumed Fawkes because of how uncommon they are."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, stoking the back of his hair this time. Harry hadn't seen him do that before, and assumed it was something he did when he was embarrassed. "Ah, Harry! How are you doing."

Yep, definitely embarrassed.

Harry shrugged, vaguely noting that it seemed easier now to do so. "Well, I'm better," he replied.

"Marvellous," Dumbledore exclaimed, smiling with a bright twinkle in his eye. "Tell me, Harry, has your scar hurt at all?"

"Which one?"

"Er," Dumbledore flushed, and Harry silently applauded himself in his ability to make the Supreme Mugwump blush and say 'Er,'. "You know, the newer one," he said, obviously feeling awkward, before quickly adding "But if the older one has hurt, do mention that as well."

Harry paused, considering. "Er, well the new one seems to have been reduced to what feels like someone poking a particularly nasty bruise, but other than that, nothing."

His old headmaster seemed both pleased and embarrassed about something new. "Brilliant, Harry, brilliant," he said, clasping his hands together. "And I am ashamed to admit, phoenix tears didn't even cross my mind. Fawkes must have grown sick of waiting for me to have an epiphany and acted on his own."

Harry snorted in amusement while Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Have you come up with anything more permanent, headmaster? The curse will tackle the phoenix tears eventually."

_Ooh, you're in trouble now, Dumbles, _Harry thought, eyes bright with mirth. _The school nurse has called you by your title! Run, run, before the hyenas get you! Mwahahahaha!_

When Dumbledore paused in giving his answer momentarily to glance at Harry with suppressed laughter and surprise written all over his face, Harry mock glared at him. _Ooh, no you don't! Just you wait 'til I get back in the hang of occlumency, I'll show you, you old geezer!_

Harry watched as Dumbledore shook his head and forced his amusement back with occlumency before turning back to Madam Pomfrey. "You were saying, Madam Pomfrey?"

"You weren't listening?!" The woman yelled. "And you expect me to just let you walk off with this boy after I'm done with him? You-"

"It was Harry who distracted me, Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly, although not without a hint of embarrassment. "He projects his thoughts rather loudly, which makes me wonder whether he's had his mind broken into forcefully on a regular basis. Something which, I assure you, I will be looking into."

_No you won't, _Harry mentally snorted. _You already know. You ordered it. _

Dumbledore gave him a look that quite clearly said _Shut it, you, _although guilt was evident on his face.

Madam Pomfrey seemed even more worried about Harry at this news, but she didn't press him into doing anything. "Well, I believe I have a potion in the cupboard somewhere designed to help heal the mind from such things that I can give him," she said, with a look on her face that told Harry she was checking whether it would react badly with something. "But enough of that," she paused. "Albus, I hate you. I can't remember what I asked you now, either."

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said, worry etched onto his old face.

Harry didn't hide a snort this time, and it drew their attention to him. "She was going to ask if you've come up with a more permanent solution because the phoenix tears' effects won't last forever."

"Oh," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, then turned to Dumbledore again. "Well?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard again. "We will simply have to see if Fawkes is willing to reapply the tears when necessary, I suppose, until I _can_ find something."

"How long do you suppose this batch will last, Albus?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and Harry almost pouted. _Dang it, she's gone back to calling him Albus! I was looking forward to the hyenas…_

Dumbledore gave him that look again, and Harry let the pout out, thinking _Stop legillying me, yeh git! _The sight almost made Dumbledore lose control over his laughter, but managed to regain control somewhat before he answered. "I have no idea, Poppy. I'm afraid we will simply have to wait and see."

He also stopped using a passive legilimency probe on his surroundings, thank god.

Madam Pomfrey nodded briskly before she bustled off, muttering potion names under her breath. Dumbledore turned to Harry, who was grinning. "Only you, Harry," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Indeed."

His old headmaster sat on the side of his bed, looking at him worriedly. "Now that we're alone, how _are_ you doing?"

"Fairly normal, surprisingly," Harry stated, mildly surprised himself. And mildly disturbed. That was exactly where he was sitting in the dream. "I suppose that happens when you're in a dark place reliving your worst moments for… however long it was, and then you're suddenly in a bright hospital wing."

"How much do you remember of the night you returned?"

Harry shrugged. "Enough. It's not like it hasn't happened before, anyway," he paused, considering what to say next. "But I will admit that my face feels very exposed."

Dumbledore's eyes widened in understanding. "You're used to long hair now." He commented.

"Indeed," Harry replied. "That and I don't believe I've laid down on my back in a long time, so my face hasn't had this much air touching it in a while."

"If you wish, I could make your hair grow," the headmaster said, drawing his wand. "It's a fairly simple charm usually used by witches, but I have some experience with it."

Harry nodded. "I would appreciate it, sir." Meanwhile thinking _Hah, I knew that hair wasn't natural!_

Dumbledore smiled. "Please, call me Albus, Harry. You're not a student anymore," he paused, thinking. "Or yet."

Suppressing laughter, Harry watched as Dumbledore twitched and waved his wand a few times, a frown appearing on his face. After repeating this process a few times, he began trying the spell verbally, to no avail, Harry realised. Growing worried, Harry looked at his ex/future headmaster. "What's going on?"

"The charm isn't working," Dumbledore said, examining his wand – the Elder Wand, Harry noted. "Well, we both know it's not the wand's fault. I see you recognise my twig."

"Yeah, it was mine in the future until I snapped it," Harry told him. "Si- Albus, do you know what's wrong?"

Albus stared at Harry as though examining him. "Well, there's one way to find out," he said. "_Petrificus totalus_!"

Harry felt the effects of the curse and glowered at Dumbledore. _Un-petrify me, dandy!_

"It is good to know that you don't have as much trouble thinking of me as an equal as you make it seem," Albus chuckled, muttering the counter-curse. _Oi, cut it with the legillying! _"Sorry," he muttered, stopping again. "One more spell, Harry." He said, wand pointing at Harry again as he uttered the colour-changing spell.

Nothing happened.

"Interesting," Albus said, once again stroking his beard in contemplation. "Do you know what this means, Harry?"

"Uh… I've somehow built up a resistance to transfiguration spells?"

"It could be. Try using the spell on yourself." He said, handing Harry his wand.

Harry hesitated a moment before taking the wand cautiously. The power he felt from the wand seemed weaker this time, probably because he didn't own this wand but did in another reality. Pointing the stick at his finger, he too said the spell.

It turned green.

As Harry handed the Elder Wand back to Albus, he couldn't help but notice that the old man's eyes were twinkling madly. _Oh god, _he groaned mentally.

"If our little experiment says anything, Harry, it's that only you can use magic to change your appearance."

Harry stared at the man. "That doesn't make sense, though," he said carefully. "I mean, polyjuice potion worked…"

Albus' beard stroking was slower and more careful now. "I believe I may know what happened there, Harry, but I believe it would be best to wait a while until I'm certain the Dementors aren't making you feel guilty for things you never did every few hours."

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "But is there anything you can tell me?"

The old man smiled. "Indeed there is, Harry. Would you mind telling me about the sort of accidental magic you used to perform as a child?"

Wondering what the hell was going on, Harry did his best to recall his little accidents. "Well, once I turned a teacher's hair blue," he began, but was cut off as Albus choked a laugh back.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I was just remembering the time your father turned the entire school population's hair blue." He chuckled.

"Oh," Harry said, wondering whether his father had been pleased when he performed that little piece of magic. "And then there was the time I was running away from Ickle Duddykins," he paused, smirking slightly. "When I suddenly found myself on the school roof."

"Apparition?" Albus exclaimed, clearly shocked.

"Nah, I think I flew," Harry said, trying to remember the occasion. "I didn't feel like I was getting squished, so either I flew or found a new method of transport. I'm voting for flew, since my mother did that as well," he stopped, wondering which accident to mention next. "And I suppose there was the time my hair grew back overnight after a particularly nasty haircut. Aunt Petunia was sick of me coming back from the hairdressers' looking like I'd never been, see, so she shaved pretty much all of it off herself. She left the fringe to hide my scar, and I fell to sleep terrified of how people would bully me for it at school, and when I woke up it was all back." His gaze focused on Albus' as a sudden realisation came to him. "Hey, si-Albus, do you think-"

"That you might be a metamorphmagus? I'm almost certain," he said, grinning. "Which means, you should be able to grow your hair out yourself."

"How?"

Albus' gaze became distant as though considering something. "Well, I'm no expert, of course, but I believe you may simply have to very clearly imagine yourself with your new haircut and will it to be real. It may take a while the first time. That's what I heard, but I may be wrong." He said, shrugging. He then conjured a mirror and handed it to Harry. "I'm sure you'll need reminding on what you look like."

Harry took the mirror and stared at his reflection. He'd rarely seen his own face at this age originally because no one took photos of him and he wasn't tall enough to see the mirror in the bathroom, but he definitely recognised himself. He'd know those eyes and that hair anywhere, even the scrawniness that had disappeared after Voldemort's reign only to return a few years later.

Retreating into his mind slightly and glaring at the mirror, he imagined that face with long hair. His mind felt significantly clearer than during Azkaban, but still not as clear as it had been before Snape's occlumency lessons. It hadn't been that clear anyway, and sometimes he wondered if Aunt Petunia had dropped him on his head as a baby. He wouldn't be surprised; Dudley had definitely been dropped at some point, perhaps multiple.

He began to will the image of his long-haired self to be real, and a few seconds later he felt a light weight on his shoulders. Bringing himself back to reality, he grinned at the sight of his now chest-length hair. It was still messy, of course, he wasn't going to abandon his Potter look. But he felt much more comfortable now.

"Well, that answers our question," Albus said cheerfully, clasping his hands together. "It has been a while since I last saw a long-haired child, I must admit, but it does suit you, I believe."

Harry smiled sheepishly at Albus. "You know, another man would take offence to that."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Albus nodded sagely. "We shall have to figure out how far your metamorphmagus powers go, but for now, we should wait for Poppy to return with your potions so we can leave."

An awkward silence followed. Albus was twiddling his thumbs, gazing around the room. Harry was lying down, half trying to grow his nails out, half trying to forget the dream he had.

He heard a sigh from the old man, and looked up to find him looking slightly grim.

"I'm sorry, Harry." He said. Harry panicked slightly. The dream had started with them both apologising to each other.

"F-for what?" he stuttered, worried that he'd have to fend off an all-powerful paedophile. He really didn't want the man to really be like that.

"For sending you to _them_," he sighed. "I know I didn't apologise last time, and to be honest, I should have. I should have realised something was wrong when I was reading the reports Arabella sent me, but I kept denying it. In the end, I had to see their hatred with my own eyes to believe it." He ran a hand through his beard. "It should not have taken that much. When I saw where your first letter was addressed to, I deluded myself into thinking you'd just been playing in there and fell asleep-"

"Albus," Harry interrupted. "I don't blame you. Not at the moment, anyway. I'm not feeling very angsty, but if I decide to wallow in self-pity over my lack of a childhood at some point, feel free to apologise. Right now, I don't blame you."

Albus smiled. "I daresay such day will come eventually."

Just then, Madam Pomfrey returned with a box of potions. "The instructions are inside, dear. Try not to let the taste put you off; if you take them properly you'll be the height you should be soon, or at least close."

Up near the ceiling, Fawkes remained unnoticed. Really, what was the point in being unnaturally bright and pretty if no one noticed you? _Really_. He was pleased that Harry now had the power to look however the hell he wanted, but seriously, any normal person would have noticed a massive red bird in a white room.

Wizards really were insane.


	8. My bird has a darker tan than yours

Harry shifted in his seat in Dumbledore's office uncomfortably under the unnerving gaze of Fawkes. Upon entering the room, Harry had been led to a seat, and Albus had sat behind his desk with a hungry look on his face. Naturally, he'd offered one of the sweets to Harry first before he dug into the victim of his hunger – the lemon drops sitting innocently in a silver tray – and since then had been staring at the ceiling whilst sucking on the muggle sweet.

Fawkes had flamed onto his perch merely thirty seconds after they entered the office, and hadn't stopped gazing at Harry since. He was still as a corpse, with the exception of the odd cocking of his head to one side. The room was completely silent except for Albus' sucking and the clanking of the silver instruments on the selves. It was driving Harry nuts, and he briefly pondered the idea that this was what Albus was trying to achieve.

At the fifteen minute mark, Albus swallowed one last time and reached to grab another lemon drop when Harry suddenly yanked the tray out of his reach. "Uh-uh. I'm not spending another quarter of an hour like this, old man."

Albus pouted, muttered 'fine', and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. The Boy-Who-Lived rolled his eyes and slid the tray across the desk to the crazy old man. "So, why is your lovely phoenix staring at me like I'm some sort of science experiment?"

The 'Leader of the Light' blinked and looked at Fawkes, who indeed did have his neck craned forwards, staring at Harry with deep fascination. "Perhaps he can sense something off about you?" He suggested, shrugging.

"Didn't he cry on me or something?" Harry asked. "If you did, Fawkesie, then I thank you." He grinned, and he could have sworn he saw the bird's left eye twitch at the mention of 'Fawkesie'.

On the other hand, the bearded bee grew pale. "Oh dear. I've never heard of phoenix tears causing the donor phoenix to grow attracted to the receiver," he rambled, stroking his beard once more. "Perhaps it has something to do with the amount, or perhaps the runes-"

He was interrupted by a sharp trill from Fawkes as said bird rose from his perch, whacked him round the head with a wing, and returned to the levitated stick to get back to his new hobby of Harry-Watching. Twas indeed an amusing sight for scarhead, although you can imagine he was less than pleased when the colourful turkey's gaze turned back to him.

Albus used the Elder Wand to repair his half-moon glasses, which had fallen off his nose and shattered against the desk. Putting them back on, he turned his gaze back to Harry and nodded sagely. "Perhaps not, then."

Silence filled the room once more, and Harry realised that if he wanted an answer, he'd have to get it from the gazer himself. "Fawkes, why are you staring at me?"

In response, the bird gazed at him a few seconds longer, shook his head exasperatedly, and then did something that confused and creeped out both men/kids. He flipped round so he was facing away from Harry and stuck his behind up in the air for all to see.

Feeling mildly awkward, Harry tore his gaze away from the hot bottom. "Er… What?"

At that moment, something collided with the side of his head from Fawkes' direction. Harry's vision went blurry, and he let out a pathetic "Aaarrrr-harrr-harrrr…" in pain. Once he could see properly again and his head didn't feel like it was floating around an aquarium, he glared at Fawkes. "What the hell was that for?"

In response, the bird seemed to snort, and turned his gaze to Albus. Out of instinct, Harry also turned his gaze to the headmaster, to find him gaping at the floor (which looked quite ridiculous, really). Confused, Harry's brow furrowed and he looked in the same direction as his headmaster to find… a round, dark _thing_.

"The heck is that?" Harry exclaimed. Whatever it was, it had black smoke coming off it in small portions and had a red tint to it. Fawkes let out an irritated noise.

"Harry," Albus began, still having trouble closing his mouth, leading to certain words sounding odd. "I think that's a phoenix egg."

"A phoenix egg?"

"Indeed."

"From Fawkes?"

"Yes."

"That he just clobbered me with?"

"That was quite amusing, yes."

"Wait, does that mean Fawkes is a girl?" This caused both wizards to look at each other in shock.

"Well..." Albus began, trying to find a way to hide his major cock up. "Maybe the males lay the eggs?"

"Maybe," Harry grunted. "Why'd he lay an egg, though?"

"Well, he wasn't going to sit it, was he?"

"Bad joke, old goat."

"I apologise, Harry. Nonetheless, perhaps you should pick it up? Since it was… aimed at you."

"Maybe, maybe," Harry replied. He then cautiously picked it up and held it up in his hands so it was on eye level with him. "I thought phoenix eggs were gold?"

Albus pursed his lips. "Indeed, that is what I thought as well," Then he looked at Harry and smirked. "Then again, nothing can be normal around you, can it, Harry?"

Harry glared at the man, although he did find the smirk rather unnerving. He was wondering what the old man would do when he found his underwear drawer sealed shut with a mixture of whatever lemon drops were made of and superglue when he felt movement from his hands. Turning his attention to the 'egg', he blinked in surprise when he realised the thing was hatching.

_'Crikey, phoenixes must be bloody paranoid to hatch so fast'_

From within the shell, an ashy head bashed its way out and squawked when it realised it couldn't squeeze its way through the miniature gap. Harry snorted, and began picking at the shell to help the tiny bird out. Said bird's head snapped to stare at him, an appreciative look on its… face, and then carried on breaking out. Once the gap was large enough, it climbed out and perched itself on Harry's six year-old hand (seriously, it was way too small).

A staring match proceeded. Only this staring match wasn't just a staring match. No, this was the staring match of staring matches, the grand championship between Aristotle and Nietzsche, and what the fuck am I yapping on about?

Harry seemed to agree with this statement, and ended the contest. "What is it with you phoenixes and staring at me?"

The phoenix seemed to giggle, and suddenly took flight – how it did that is a question for those who don't listen to logic – and slammed its forehead into Harry's. The Boy-Whose-Name-Must-Be-Hyphenated felt something shift inside him, as though something missing had been returned. When he became aware of his surroundings again, it was to a fully grown, almost black dark red phoenix staring at him from his lap. Its eyes, amber like Fawkes', were full of mirth.

Harry stared at the phoenix.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry continued to stare at the phoenix.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry still stared at the phoenix.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry, still staring at the phoenix, let his eyes narrow.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry put more force into the stare.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry's eye twitched.

The phoenix stared back.

Harry's eye twitched even heavier.

The phoenix stared back.

Fawkes trilled in irritation. The duo didn't hear.

They kept on staring.

And staring.

And staring.

And staring.

Until Harry blinked, and the phoenix jerked his head upwards to say 'That's what you get for trying to beat moi in a staring contest, bitch.'

"How'd you grow up so quick!?" Harry exclaimed, still sore over his loss.

::I'M YOUR COMPANION, JERKHEAD!:: The phoenix screeched, and Harry paled.

"Bloody hell, Dumbledore, the phoenix can talk!"

Albus stared at Harry incredulously. "Harry," he began, as though talking to a delusional child. "The phoenix didn't talk."

"Wha- bu- YES HE DID!" he yelled, looking between his two most recent offenders.

The phoenix rolled its eyes. ::Great, I got an idiot.::

Harry stared at it, hurt evident in his face. "I am not an idiot," he protested. "See, Albus? The bird just insulted me!"

"Harry, he was just… trilling."

"Well, it sounded like words to me!"

::Harry,:: Fawkes interrupted, moving his head to the side slightly as if to block Albus from view. ::Think parsletongue.::

"What- think parsletongue? What do you-" His eyes widened. "Albus, Fawkes can talk!"

"What? No he-"

"And he sounds like a girl!" he said smugly.

::I AM A GIRL!:: Fawkes screamed, making Harry flinch. ::Please tell that barmy old codger to STOP GETTING HIS GIANT FRIEND TO IDENTIFY GENDERS! The idiot can't tell a dick from a vagina to save his bloody life. Not that I have either, mind you!::

Harry, feeling like a little child (which he kind of was), ducked his head slightly before relaying the message to Albus. "Fawkes says she's a girl and that you should stop getting Hagrid to identify animal genders because he can't tell the difference between a… yeah. And the other thing. And Fawkes doesn't have either."

Albus stared at Harry for a few seconds, seemingly considering something. To do with Harry most likely, considering the direction of his gaze. "Harry, did you say that Fawkes said to 'think parsletongue'?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said, confused. "But I couldn't understand them a moment ago, and I'm still a parslemouth. I think…" He imagined a snake and focused on it. {Can I speak parsletongue?} He asked rhetorically. Albus didn't seem to understand a word he'd said, so he assumed that was a yes. "Apparently so. So that can't be it, unless…" he looked at the phoenix on his lap, who was staring at him expectantly. "Did you just make me a phoenixmouth or something? Because everything you're saying sounds like English, and the last time that happened to me was with a great big snake."

The phoenix trilled in amusement. ::There's no such thing as a phoenixmouth. I just made you able to understand what phoenixes are saying, as a part of the companion bond. A phoenixear if you desire a name to go with it. Moron.::

"I am not a moron!" He protested, trying to stop his six year-old body from pouting. "And what's a companion?"

The phoenix looked to Albus. The old man, realising this as a cue to share some of his not-as-vast-as-you-think knowledge, sat up straight in excitement. "Well, I assume you have heard of familiars, Harry?"

"Yeah, although I'm not entirely clear on what they are."

"Familiars are a subject many don't understand very well due to the rarity of them. They are basically a mortal magical creature that feels a certain link to a witch or wizard, or sometimes what the Ministry calls 'half-breeds'. Should they be able to form a bond with said being, they will either be able to speak telepathically or give their bonded the ability to understand what they are saying," Albus told Harry, enjoying being the one answering the questions for the first time that day. "Companions, on the other hand, are immortal. They are, for the most part, the same as familiars, except for their lifespan. They will also be able to get past any barriers that prevent familiars from bonding to their wizard."

Harry stared at Albus, knowing that he'd purposefully not said something. It was all there in the wording. "You make it sound like someone's done something to prevent people from bonding with their familiars."

"Indeed they have," Albus sighed, running a hand through his beard. "It was quite a long time ago, really. An old wizard by the name of Uranus Black-" Harry snorted. "Was jealous of the younger population because he'd never been graced with a familiar, whereas there was a sudden increase in familiars that year. He was convinced that because he had never had a familiar he'd never reached his full potential as a wizard, and turned to the Dark Arts. No one is sure what he did, Harry, but he somehow placed a hereditary block on the entire British magical population that would prevent them from finding familiars or talking to bonded familiars.

"Some familiars have broken through the block, of course, but very few. No one knows how the block was placed, and they have no idea how to take it off. The creatures can still sense their should-be-bonded, as can they, to an extent," he paused to lean closer to Harry. "Tell me, Harry; did you not sense that something was different between yourself and Hedwig, Miss Granger and her cat, and the majority of Hogwarts' students' pets?"

The Boy-Who-Hates-His-Nicknames frowned. "You're right. We seemed closer."

Albus smiled. "Precisely. Now you remember the feeling of a blocked familiar bond, and may be able to work around it," he grew serious, suddenly, and Harry wondered whether he'd twitched a muscle wrong or something. "However, Harry, I must ask that you do not attempt to destroy the block. At least not yet."

Harry, now stroking the newborn phoenix's feathers (he really needed to name her), grew concerned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Due to the nature of your… death," Albus hesitated slightly when he saw Harry flinch at the memory. "You have obtained some new abilities that, should you work on removing the block, may very well surface."

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, mildly annoyed. "New abilities is a good thing, right?"

Albus smiled softly and reached for his phoenix friend. "Indeed. However, at the moment it would be in your best interest to focus on recovering from your ordeal before you start working on controlling this," he said, trying to ignore the fact that Fawkes was avoiding his hand. "You remember the most well-known ability of Dementors, yes?"

The child/man paled. "Yeah, might be a good thing to wait for that."

"Indeed," Albus replied, giving up on Fawkes-Chasing. "However, before we were interrupted by Fawkes and… your new friend, I was going to tell you something."

"No," Harry exclaimed, eyes widening in mock shock. "You, tell me something? I thought we were up here to suck lemon drops and act like old men – which I have no intentions of doing, by the way. I may be fifty-ish, but the last time I saw sunlight before today I was in my twenties."

Albus' eyes twinkled. "You are certainly welcome to help yourself to a lemon drop, Harry. However, the thing I wished to talk to you about was-" he reached under his desk and plonked a small cage on in front of them. "This."

Confusion was all Harry knew for a moment before he saw the rat. He recognised it from somewhere, but he just couldn't quite-

"Wormtail," he whispered dangerously, wishing he had a wand so he could hex the rat into oblivion. He'd never managed offensive wandless magic.

"Quite right, Harry," Albus said cheerfully as though he didn't have an ugly fat rat right in front of him. "I was planning on handing him over to Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. She is fair and sticks to the law, as you possibly remember."

Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off of the unconscious traitor. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes. Do that. And don't let him escape."

"I won't Harry," he said, returning the cage to wherever it was earlier. "You'll have Sirius back within the next few days, hopefully. However, considering the circumstances, I believe we should keep his custody of you a strict secret."

"What? Why?"

He smiled sadly. "You remember how you met the Weasleys?" Albus tried to ignore the haunted expression on the boy's face. "If we keep it a secret, people will still attempt to take advantage of your 'lack of knowledge'. You will be able to tell the trustworthy from the untrustworthy easily, to an extent. The people who want to know _you_ from the people who want to know the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry blinked in surprise. "That is suspiciously Slytherin of you, headmaster," he commented. "Are you sure the history books have your House right?"

The old man chuckled and threw a lemon drop at Harry (which stuck to his hair, much to the little boy's displeasure). "Well, the sorting hat did suggest it, but I felt like I wouldn't enjoy my time there. Much too serious."

"You would be right, wise Albus," Harry complimented, nodding sagely in mockery of him. "Although I went to Gryffindor because I didn't want to share a dorm with Malfoy and because… Weasley," he struggled to get the name out at the thought of the youngest male weasel. "Kept going on about how all dark wizards come from Slytherin. To which I know better now, thankfully."

Albus was torn between surprise that Harry could have been a Slytherin and sadness at the thought of what the two youngest Weasleys had fallen to in their old world. To distract himself and Harry from dark thoughts – and possibly flashbacks in Harry's case – he returned the sagely nodding. "I never knew that, Harry. What was the hat's reasoning behind wanting to place you in Slytherin?"

Harry's brow creased as he tried to remember that night. It was hard to remember the happy times after the Dementor exposure. He could barely remember Sirius at all, a thought that pained him… and made his scar hurt. Stupid scar. "I think he said something about helping me on the way to greatness or something," he said, still trying to remember that night.

"He said pretty much the same thing to me," Albus smiled. "I've always wondered what he meant by 'greatness'. I do hope he wasn't talking about becoming a Dark Lord."

"You could have just asked, you know," A scratchy voice came from above them. They turned in their seats to see the sorting hat on a high shelf. "I might not have answered, but you should have at least tried. And Harry, you may want to pull that lemon drop out of your hair."

Harry blushed and began the agonising adventure of trying to unstuck a sweet from one's hair on a hot summer's day. On the other hand, Albus' face grew thoughtful. "Will you tell us what you meant by 'greatness'?"

The tip of the hat seemed to bend to the side in consideration. "Nah. Although in Harry's case, I genuinely don't know, as I haven't even sorted him yet. You'd have to ask my counterpart for that."

The two wizards stared at each other. This was going to be a long war.

* * *

In a dark, dank, boring corridor in the high-security wing of Azkaban, two cloaked figures stood facing each other. One was your average Dementor size, and the other was a bit of a midget.

"So, lemme get this straight," the tall Dementor began. "You were your brother's slave?"

"Yes, sir."

"We're squibs that were experimented on by a crazy vampire?"

"Yes, sir."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I suppose so, sir."

"Well, why don't you bugger off and find your sodding master?"

"Lord Blackadder is dead, sir."

"Well, what about the kid you supposedly snogged?"

"His family would freak out, sir. Especially the fat one."

"What about whatsitsname then, Anna?"

"Anne hates being called that, sir, and she'd treat me the same as my Lord Blackadder."

"Exactly!"

"Pardon me, sir?"

"Go be her slave?"

"But I don't want to!"

"DO IT!"

"Yes sir, right away, sir."

And so, the unfortunate 'soul' known as Baldrick flew out of the window… and nearly fell to the ground due to his sheer uselessness.

* * *

As Sirius Black sat in his cell, wondering how long it would be until he saw is godson again, he couldn't help but notice the unusual activity of the Dementors lately. From his body's memories, he'd learned that they certainly hadn't behaved like this before.

Why was he suddenly so captured by the not-so mating habits of cloaked fiends? Well, he was pretty sure he'd just witnessed a Dementor tell another Dementor to run away from… home? It had certainly seemed like it. You rarely heard the creatures talk, but the taller one had sounded pretty pissed.

'_I wonder if it has anything to do with Harry_,' he wondered as he slipped into the dream realm, otherwise known as the nightmare realm there.

* * *

Later that day, Albus sat at his desk, his thoughts never straying far from Harry.

After arguing and talking over a few more matters that morning, he had escorted the man/child to a room in his private quarters. He was under strict instructions not to leave without his permission, not that it was all that hard for the boy. The potions he was taking to combat malnutrition and get him to a normal height were making him rather tired.

No, but his problem was still to do with his behaviour. Or lack of.

After what he'd been through – torture, Azkaban, and then _this_ – he'd expected him to be in a state. But instead, he was happily bantering with himself and two fire birds. That wasn't the end of it, however.

After he had delivered Wormtail to Amelia – who had been horrified at the implications – he had stepped into Harry's room to check up on him. However, in the room, Harry was sobbing into his knees, rocking himself back and forth, muttering things under his breath. Unsure of what to do, he'd allowed Harry's phoenix – whom he'd still not named – to take care of him. Out of he and the four heads of house, he'd been amongst the worst when it came to getting traumatized children to come to terms with what they'd been through. No, it was better to speed up Sirius' case so they could heal together; Sirius was the man who Harry had trusted the most in his previous life, after all.

But what had caused him to behave either cheerfully or… like that? Perhaps the pain was too much to bear, so his mind resorted to having him extremely sad and extremely happy to avoid constant depression? It could be. He would have to ask George; he'd known him quite well after what they seemed to refer to as 'The Incident'.

* * *

**A/N**: There are a few things I felt I should cover here.

**1) Why was what Vernon was doing to Harry near lethal?**  
Now, I don't know about you, but six year-olds are very small. Harry is even smaller, as he hasn't had a decent meal since he was one and a half. If this sort of abuse can injure near-adults when done violently, then surely it would cause some serious damage to an under-fed six year-old? I guess I should have had him vomit, but... well, maybe he hasn't been fed recently enough for that?  
I'm not a doctor by any means, though, so I apologize if I screwed up here!

**2) Why did you even have Vernon do what he did?**  
Due to circumstances that were beyond my control, I have experienced most of what most Fanfic writers do to Harry - severe beatings (not from family mind you), constant insults, blah-di-blah - and I have never been _violently_ affected by it. Yes, it shaped me as a human being, but because of all this, I just can't picture someone being overly traumatized by anything less than... you know. Look, I can't even say it!  
So basically, it's just a way to help me understand Harry. If he were traumatized particularly by mere violence and slander, I wouldn't be able to write him very well at all, because I'd keep stopping to think 'why the hell can't you get over this?' Especially since he's meant to be a bloody hero, but even if he weren't...

**3) You do realize that's extremely rude to people who were abused over a long time period, yes?**  
I don't mean it to be offensive. It's just the way I am; at first the things I went through - ten years so far, guys - made me violent and hateful. Think of a cute and adorable female Voldemort. Then I developed a coping mechanism that helped me stay calm. I realize some may feel it unfair that it was only my personality that was affected by it, but some people are just better at coping than others. I compare myself to Remus in this; where do you think his calm nature comes from? The pain of transformation and prejudice he faces as a werewolf.  
Since I am so used to violence and insults, I see it as only natural that the concept wouldn't horrify me. Rape (there, I said it) doesn't particularly either, but the concept gains more of a reaction from me.  
I'm not saying that what I experience isn't a form of being traumatized. What I'm saying is that I can't see anyone being _violently_ traumatized - as in hallucinations, nightmares, flashbacks, guilt, etc - by anything short of rape. Even the word feels dirty.

So, there you go. Perhaps you can understand some of the things I do now, perhaps not... We shall see. Feel free to ask stuff.


	9. The Angry Dead Man

_Harry and George watched from afar under the invisibility cloak as Ginny and Molly no-surname walked up to the Gringotts counter with a bundle of cloth._

_Ginerva flicked her hair arrogantly as she stared at the teller, who happened to be sneering at her. "I have with me the Potter blood heir, who also happens to be my baby. I demand access to my baby's vaults."_

_The goblin's sneer turned disgusted, if that was possible. "There is no Potter blood heir."_

_"Yes, there is. It's right here," she snapped, dumping the bundle on the counter, revealing a head of messy black hair on the newborn. "Now, give me access."_

_"Ginerva, correct?" the goblin asked, already knowing the answer. At the redhead's nod, his nose twitched. "The spawn created by Ginerva no-surname and Harry James Potter was disowned by the Potter house before it was even born. This child has no privileges."_

_The slut gaped. "WHAT? But he can't do that! It's his child!"_

_"Ginerva, since you have not even named your baby yet, the child is even more of a nothing than you, blood or no. I advise you to leave with the child, or to place him in Gringotts' care so we may find a suitable orphanage for the child."_

_"Fine," the girl screeched. "Take it; I don't want it!" And with that, she turned and strutted away, Molly following after a stern glare at the goblin. _

_Once they were gone, the goblin looked down and smiled at the baby. "Not to worry, youngling; everything will work out soon," In the shadows, George and Harry removed the cloak and approached the goblin. "Are you ready, Lord Potter?"_

_"I'm ready."_

* * *

"Hey, Albus? I just got a letter from the twins." Harry said the next morning as he sat down to breakfast. They had decided that Albus would alternate between eating in his quarters and in the Great Hall, like the other teachers, to avoid the suspicion he would face should he always eat in his quarters.

He slid the letter across the table and watched as his old headmaster's expressions changed as he read. Meanwhile, Harry recalled the contents.

_Hey Harry,_

_We hope you're okay, mate! Old beardo came and abducted the original traitor while we were trying to grab him ourselves – we don't know what we would have done with him, mind you. Mail him to you? That's totally secure._

_Which means you now have three of us on your side, Harrikins! Get away from those muggles as soon as you can._

_It's a nightmare not rushing into their rooms and murdering them in their sleep. We've come to a few conclusions, brother of ours._

_Firstly, we know we have to give our dad a cure, but we just don't know when. It might be too hard for him to act normal, and we don't want to ruin the timeline._

_Secondly, we have concluded that the traitorous two cannot be fixed. The boy was born a jealous prick, and we did try to make him feel better at first originally. He was just such a bastard. The girl, well… by this point she's been exposed for five years to her mother. If we manage, it won't be easy. Not to mention she'll probably get her right back on track when we're at Hogwarts. We might try, if they're not too annoying. We'll be pranking the shit out of them, though._

_Thirdly, if you were to be as kind as to buy us ingredients for a few batches of extendable ears, we would be happy to consider it as a very early investment into our company._

_Finally, possibly the most important part. We know you may not remember this detail anymore, Harry, but our mother has your spare Trust Vault key. She salvaged it at some point, don't ask us how. We can't find it, so we advise you to pay Gringotts a visit soon._

_We hope to see you soon, dear brother! We'll be keeping an ear open to hear about Snuffles' trial, and our mother's plans and whatnot. She'll probably insult him like last time. We, however, in our great wisdom, believe that old Snuffly will be much better for you than our mother ever was._

_Remember; you're the triplet we never had. We're not going to ditch you, unlike our pig-headed brother._

_Gred and Forge_

Harry watched as Albus looked up at him when he finished the letter. "Once Sirius has been cleared, it may be best for us to arrange a visit to Gringotts."

"Yes," Harry considered, poking a rasher of bacon with his fork. "Do you think the goblins would be willing to delay any action against her until I go to Hogwarts?"

"I believe so. The goblins will likely see it as Molly 'digging her own grave'."

"That's fine, then," Harry nodded, trying to pierce a sausage with his fork. "I don't want the time stream altered too much. We can only save people when we have an idea of what will happen."

"A wise thing to do," Albus smiled, stirring his tea. "I have pushed for Sirius' trial to take place today."

Harry's head snapped up. "What?"

The headmaster's smile grew. "Well, the less time Cornelius has to find out about it the less time Lucius has to bribe the Wizengamot." This was a lie, of course. In reality, Albus felt the need to get Harry the adult he trusted the most as soon as possible to help him overcome his trauma. Harry, however, didn't know that.

"That's a good idea, Albus." He admitted.

Albus continued to watch Harry eat his small breakfast as he sipped his tea. He still didn't understand the way Harry was reacting to this trauma, but he was planning to send a letter to the twins to ask if this was what he had been like the last time, and if so, how to help him. Oh, he knew what had happened to Harry; that had been part of Remus and Tonks' plan to get him to help the boy out. However, he did not know specifics; as far as he knew, Harry had merely been severely depressed and reclusive after 'The Incident'. And perhaps he was, for a while. Unfortunately, Tonks was unwilling to talk to him very often.

But for now, he needed to stop looking like he was sizing Harry up like a paedophile.

"Have you named your phoenix yet, Harry?" he asked, trying to shake that last thought away. The boy in question looked up again with a sheepish look on his face.

"No, I haven't. We kept disagreeing," He confessed as, like on cue, the phoenix in question flamed into the room next to his plate and gobbled up a slice of bacon. "She gave my scar another dose of tears, by the way."

Albus gazed at the phoenix. He was aware that there were many different kinds of phoenix, Fawkes being amongst the most common, but he had not read of any that looked like this before. Her body was dark red, almost black, her eyes the same amber of Fawkes', and her wing and tail feathers were trimmed with black and silver. No, definitely not something he'd heard of.

As though sensing his confusion, Harry grinned at the old headmaster. "Tonks and the bird explained her colouring to me last night. Apparently, she's the companion to the Master of Death."

The Supreme Mugwump chocked on his beverage. "Master of Death?"

"I know, I was surprised too," Harry admitted, staring into space as he recalled the last night's events. "Apparently because, for a few brief moments, I owned all three Deathly Hallows, I am now officially the eternal Master of Death in that world – and this one now – until I decide to pass on."

"Decide to pass on?" Albus asked, growing worried.

"Yeah, it was actually Death who explained that one to me," he answered, looking amused. "Nice scythe, you should really see it. Basically, when you obtain all three Hallows, Death sizes you up and decides whether to allow you to become the Master or not. If you pass, you are given the privilege of a chance to befriend Death. Which I seem to have done accidentally due to my snapping the Elder Wand originally-" Albus glanced down to where his wand was hidden. "-thus convincing him that I won't turn corrupt. None of us would have been able to pass over here if I hadn't become the oblivious Master of Death, Death hadn't taken a liking to me, or Death hadn't sweet-talked the four Fates into it. Remus and Tonks just suggested it to him."

"Wait, the four Fates?"

"The three Fates and the One Fate no one likes or cares about, and thus is out of a job."

"Ah."

"What were we talking about?"

"Er," Albus reflected back on the conversation. "Your phoenix being the companion to the Master of Death."

"Ah yes," Harry perked up. "Basically, Death realised that one day someone would unite his Hallows, and decided to give them benefits for it. Thus, the whole 'Master of Death' stuff. Although to be fair, I think he was just bored and needed something to do. The 'Death Phoenix', as he called it, was just one part of that." He paused. "Well, for lighter wizards, anyway. If you were dark, I believe you would get something else."

Albus stared at the phoenix. "I see. But how do you determine whether a phoenix is male or female if you can't understand them, might I ask?"

The phoenix trilled, and Albus saw the signs of Harry understanding. "Apparently, they physically have no gender. It's just that their minds develop to behave like one or the other. And they don't lay eggs." He ended on an amused note.

"But… but the golden eggs-"

"No one's seen them hatch," Harry shook his head. "The only reason Fawkes laid one is because of the whole Death thing."

Albus rubbed his forehead. This was going to get confusing one day. Deciding to change the subject, he smiled at the six year-old and let his eyes twinkle. "Shall we discuss a name for your friend, then?"

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

Later that day – around the same time as Sirius' trial – Fred and George Weasley were in their room coming up with new and obscure theories for prank items and just pranks in general. Fred had finally recovered from the information overload, and it seemed almost as though they were the same person again.

It was when they were discussing the potentials of gillyweed when Fawkes suddenly appeared on George's bed, causing Fred to shriek and leap into his brother's arms. Rolling his eyes, George smiled at the phoenix. "What are you doing here, buddy?"

In response, the phoenix looked pointedly at the door, and George's eyes widened in realisation. "Freddie, I need you to get down so I can sort something out."

A few privacy charms later, the twins were hunched over a letter from their past and future headmaster.

_Dear Fred and George_

_This parchment is charmed so that only you can read it. However, I advise you to burn it afterwards just in case._

_I have arranged for Sirius and Wormtail's trials to take place today, and I am in fact going to leave soon after I have sent this off with Fawkes. He – I apologise, apparently he's a she – _

The twins gaped and stared at Fawkes, who in return, trilled in annoyance and glared at them. Shaking their heads, they returned to the letter.

_-has been instructed to only enter when there is no one near your room, so it may have taken a while if someone was in the room next to you. Sirius should be fine, given that we are utilising veritaserum in this trial._

_However, I have something more important to discuss with you. Your brother is with me, and has been since not long after he arrived. I must ask you how he behaved after what you seem to refer to as 'The Incident' and how you helped him._

_Merely minutes after arriving, Harry went through a traumatic ordeal. He is with me now, but at first it seemed he was not reacting to the event. He was quite cheerful, and I could sense it was genuine. However, when I went to check on him after delivering Peter, I found him curled up in his room, crying and muttering something under his breath. I left helping him to a new avian friend of his, but I would like to know whether this is how he behaved after 'The Incident'. It would help Sirius and I greatly._

_Good luck trying not to hex your relatives, boys. Please tell me anything you know._

_Albus Dumbledore_

The twins stared at each other for a moment. Fred smirked. "Well, you were the one who went through it."

Rolling his eyes, George began to write an answer to go back to the office with Fawkes.

_Professor Dumbledore_

_We deliver our cheer at hearing Sirius will be getting a fair trial. That man deserves it. Please let us know the outcome?_

_That's sort of what Harry was like after 'The Incident', yeah. He's been like that ever since; cheerful one minute, then you look away and when you look back he's fallen into a depression. The depressive phases grew milder and less frequent as time went by – especially after James became his son fully – but he seemed to enjoy keeping his cheerful side. We don't blame him; he rarely had a chance to be cheerful as a kid._

_Last time, though, it took weeks before Harry could be pulled out of depression for the first time, so the switch you experienced may have been him sub-consciously feeling a need to stay strong in the presence of an unfamiliar wizard. Don't forget he barely knew you and hadn't met you in about 35 years before now._

_We helped him by giving him a purpose – James and Teddy – and generally just being friends. Depression became less frequent, and hey whaddya know? He only got them a few hours a month by the time he was locked up._

_We think Sirius is the one you should allow to help him. I – George – may have become his best friend, but we don't think he's trusted or cared for anyone more than he did Sirius, although James and Teddy could challenge the 'cared for' part._

_If you need any more advice, don't hesitate to ask._

_Gred and Forge Weasley – the best and only_

* * *

A few hours later, in Courtroom Ten – a room which supplied Albus with grim memories of Harry's fifth year – the joint trial of Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black ended, Peter Pettigrew being placed in magic suppressing handcuffs – mostly to prevent transformation – before being escorted to Azkaban, Sirius rushing over to Dumbledore.

"Albus, please, you need to get Harry away from his relatives," he explained desperately. "They hate magic, they'll mistreat him! Please, if anything, just let him see him. He's my godson; I have a right-"

"I know, Sirius, I know," Albus said calmly, eyes a twinkle. "I have already taken him into my care."

Sirius blinked rapidly in feigned confusion. He'd been told to act like he didn't have a clue about the plan. "I- you what?"

"Perhaps we should retreat to my office." The old headmaster suggested, jerking his head towards the exit.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Sirius said coldly a while later in the headmaster's office. "Literally a couple of minutes after my godson was given relief from the Dementors, his fat whale of an uncle…" he hesitated, choking on the word. "_Raped_ him. That no good excuse of a piece of lard raped _my_ godson?"

"I am afraid so," Albus replied.

Sirius shook his head furiously. "I'm going to KILL that bastard!" he roared, jumping out of his seat and beginning to pace. "This is the last time that LAZY FUCK will EVER touch my godson! If he dares even look at my Harry, he'll wish he'd never even been born! That piece of shit had better start running, because by the time I'm finished with him he'll be so MENTALLY DISTURBED A SMILE WILL NEVER CROSS HIS BIG, UGLY FACE AGAIN! And YOU!" he suddenly swung round to face Dumbledore. "You left him there! Last time, you didn't even care! YOU SENT HIM BACK! HOW MANY TIMES DID THIS HAPPEN, DUMBLEDORE? _HOW MANY TIMES_?"

"Just the once," Albus said softly. "I was deluded into thinking it was an accident. I was deluded about everything related to Harry. I merely… shrank Vernon permanently to ensure it never happened again."

The man who was generally thought to be a murderer just glared at the man. "Save it. Harry might forgive you, but I don't," he firmly spat. "Where is my godson?"

Albus rose from his seat solemnly and made his way to the portrait hiding the entrance to his quarters. "Mutton chops," he uttered quietly, and once the door was wide open, he gestured for Sirius to enter. "Third door in the corridor to the right. The password is Jamie and Teddy."

And so, Sirius Black, with one last glare at the headmaster made his way towards Harry's room.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, his thoughts slow and self-loathing. He stared ahead at the wall, hardly blinking, as his phoenix – now named Ophelia, a name that caught her eye whilst Harry was idly flicking through a Shakespeare text – sang softly, trying to gain his attention from next to him. But it was no use, for Harry Potter was in a world of his own, and couldn't hear her.

_Freak. Good-for-nothing free-loader. Murderer. You get in everyone's way, and now they're paying the price. They don't want to associate with a freak like you, they just didn't want another world to fall into the devastation it would if you carried on the way you are. _He flinched slightly, and his eyes turned to his left forearm, where in his previous life Vernon had carved the word 'FREAK' into his flesh. Those two months had been the worst he'd endured since he'd gone and got Sirius killed.

Why did they give him another chance to screw up? He'd probably just make it all worse. Hell, he didn't even know what had happened to the soul of the body he'd inhabited since he'd arrived here! Was it dead? Deleted? Had he ruined yet another life due to his stupidity?

He didn't even hear the gentle knock on the door as silent tears made their way down his cheeks. It was all his fault and they were giving _him_ of all people a second chance! What did he do to deserve it? What of Sirius, Tonks, or Remus? He knew for a fact that Remus and Tonks weren't coming across; they'd told him themselves. That's when it hit him.

Sirius wasn't in the pink and purple place.

He really did blame him for his death.

He didn't hear a second set of knocks as his shoulders began to shake. He didn't hear the door open as he began to choke back sobs. But he _was_ drawn out of his trance-like state when a warm arm snaked across his shoulders, and he flinched. He was confused; why was someone comforting him? Then, a voice he'd thought he'd never hear again cut through his thoughts.

"Harry?"

Harry stiffened slightly when he heard it. Was he imagining things? What was he doing here? Then he remembered; his trial was today. He must have been cleared. At least some good had come out of this.

Bracing himself, he slowly turned to face the owner of the voice. Sirius was thinner than he'd been the first time he'd seen him as a human. His skin clung to his skull-like face, partially hidden by his long beard and mangled, greasy hair. He was still wearing his dirty old prison robes, and obviously hadn't showered in years. The man was barely recognisable, but the stormy grey eyes were still his. And right now, they seemed worried. Why?

The six year-old's sobbing was threatening to re-emerge when he began muttering barely distinguishable things under his breath, but he paused when Sirius' dirty thumb gently wiped the tears from his face. "Harry, it's me; Sirius. What's wrong?"

Harry stared up at him in disbelief. Why was he worried? He'd killed him, why did he care? "I killed you," he sobbed, but when Sirius made to interrupt he carried on, barely aware of the tears cascading down his face. "I killed you. I killed you, I didn't mean it, I was so stupid but it was all my fault, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, it should have been me, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'M SORRY!"

When Harry paused to take a breath, Sirius quickly gathered the weeping child into his arms and whispered words of comfort as he rocked him gently. "It's not your fault, Harry. You didn't know it was a trap, and if anything, I'm proud that you managed to hold your own for so long. If you want to blame someone, puppy, blame Lestrange, blame Voldemort, hell; blame Dumbledore for not telling you anything! You couldn't have known any better, and I, for one, don't blame you at all. You didn't ask me to get cocky during a duel." Sirius ran his fingers through his godson's long hair as he comforted him. "And I definitely approve of your new hair style," he chuckled wetly, as he realised his cheeks were wet as well. "The girls will love it."

"You don't blame me?" Harry choked out, looking up at his godfather, surprised at the clean patches of skin where tears had cleared their way through the grime. "But- but I thought-"

Sirius shook his head and maintained eye contact. "Never, Harry. I would never blame you for that. Please don't blame yourself, Harry; I don't blame you, and besides, I'm here now!" he finished with an emotional grin.

Even Harry managed a slight smile. "You don't hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Harry," Sirius smiled, although in reality the mere fact that his godson had suspected such a thing made him want to cry all over him. He began stroking the boy's hair again. "I may be disappointed at times, but hate will never be on my list of feelings towards you."

"I'm not James to you, then?"

Tears pricked Sirius' eyes, despite his efforts not to cry again. "Harry, I won't lie to you; Azkaban did a number on me. And sometimes, I couldn't tell the difference between you," Sirius tightened his grip on Harry when his face drooped. "Harry, listen to me. I kept searching for similarities between you and your parents, but I assure you, that won't happen again. The damage Azkaban did on my mind healed when I died, like it did for you," The dog animagus tried and failed to stop his voice trembling at the thought that his godson had suffered through that same hell on earth for twice as long as he. "Of course, then Death had to go out of his way to get some of my brain fixed, but now, I'm pretty much as good as new." He smiled as Harry's face began to light up. "You'll never be James to me again, pup."

He smiled as Harry hugged him fiercely, and ruffled his hair. He couldn't stem the relief that flooded him when he realised that Harry hadn't feared his touch once he realised who he was. Relief that his godson hadn't changed too much over the decades Sirius had been missing from his life. Relief that he wasn't beyond help. He buried his face in Harry's hair, breathing in the scent of lemony shampoo; Albus' doing, no doubt. The best thing that had come from this, in his mind, was that he would get to provide Harry with a home at long last. Harry would get the childhood he deserved, because whether he wanted it or not, that body of his was going to affect his behaviour at least a bit. Even if it was just a strange liking for kids programs.

A few minutes into the hug, once Harry seemed to have calmed down, Sirius pulled back slightly and grinned at him. "So, mind telling me how you obtained this hair-do? Because I approve."

Sirius' heart lifted at the sound of his godson's laughter. "Only yesterday," he replied, shaking his head. "Albus figured out I'm a metamorphmagus."

"You're a what?" Sirius exclaimed, mouth agape. "You're seriously a metamorphmagus?"

"Yup," Harry grinned, changing his eyes the same colour as Sirius', making the man smile. "Basically, I asked him to grow my hair because my face felt exposed-" Sirius nodded in understanding. "-and it didn't work, but when he put a body-bind on me, it did. So he got me to do a colour-changing charm on my arm, and it worked. He gave me a guess as to how metamorphing works, and when I tried it out, voila! Long hair!"

"I see you didn't make it any neater, though," Sirius said, smirking. "It's sticking up in places at the top."

Harry, in turn, shrugged. "I kind of grew fond of the messiness after James. I won't go out of my way to make it messier, mind you."

"Speaking of James, I like your password," Sirius laughed. "It's very you, and very secure."

"Thanks," Harry blushed, still not used to praise. He then heard Ophelia mutter something along the lines of ::Idiot humans not even noticing a massive bloody bird. Fawkes was right about that much, at least.::

The sudden noise coming from the bird drew Sirius' attention, and he jumped slightly at the sight, making Harry laugh. "Merlin, Harry, what's with the massive bird on your bed?" he turned to him and smirked. "Ooh, you naughty boy, you! Did you use- OW!" he yelled as Harry flicked his cheekbone.

"Her name is Ophelia and she is a phoenix," he paused, listening to Ophelia's indignant trills. "And she is very angry at the implication that she is a transfigured prostitute."

"Oh. Oops," Sirius said sheepishly before turning to the phoenix. "Sorry, Ophelia." He smiled apologetically before turning back to Harry. "Ophelia? Isn't she the Shakespeare character that went mad?"

"Hey, don't blame me, she's the one who liked it!" he replied defensively, pointing towards the bird in question. "I can't even remember what the play's name was!"

Sirius frowned, brow furrowed in concentration. "Wasn't it Camelot?"

"Nah, it was something like that, though," Harry responded. "Harpy?" he suggested on a whim.

The older – physically – man shivered. "I am never going to get used to a six year-old saying those sorts of things," he said, shaking his head. "You'd better not corrupt your peers at school, young man."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll try, Sirius," he then frowned, a thought occurring to him. "Sirius, I've been going to muggle school for a year now. I don't want to go back there; the muggle kids bully me because of Dudley."

Sirius' eyes turned cold at the mention of this. "Puppy, you must tell me everything that happened in your previous life eventually. I was an idiot not to ask before," he then sighed, and pushed his anger at the muggles back to give his godson a reassuring smile. "As for school, Dumbledore's dealt with that."

"He's trying to make it up to us, Sirius," Harry told him as he caught the bitterness in his voice when he mentioned the headmaster's name. "He knows he screwed up royally, and he's trying to make sure it doesn't happen this time. Please don't make it harder for him."

"Fine, just don't expect me to jump off a cliff for him," he accepted bitterly. "He _left_ you there. He knew they hated you and he just wouldn't accept it! I don't care if you forgive him, pup, it'll take a lot more for me to forgive him." He confessed, looking Harry in the eye to make a point. He then took a calming breath and placed his hands on his shoulders. "And for the same reason, I am going to make those… _relatives_ of yours pay."

Eyes widening, Harry shook his head desperately. "No, Sirius, they're not worth-"

"You may not feel a need for revenge, Harry, but I do. I'm not letting them get away with this. Arresting them isn't personal enough, and Remus told me that you and Dumbledore plan on keeping your knowledge of the wizarding world a secret while I was still in Azkaban. That's why I said in my trial that I would leave you with your relatives, but Dumbledore managed to call in a favour or two and get me guardianship of you without anyone knowing," he paused, smiling wryly. "At least that's in his favour. But anyway, we're waiting until your first day at Hogwarts to arrest them, and until then, they will suffer my personal revenge." He said passionately before clasping Harry's hands in his. "I need this, Harry. Please don't try to stop me."

"I don't want you back in Azkaban…"

"I assure you, what I am going to do is perfectly legal," Sirius assured him with a feral grin. "There's this cool pureblood law that allows heads of Ancient and Noble Houses to gain non-lethal revenge on non-purebloods should they seriously harm one from their house. And since I made you my heir when I became your godfather…" he trailed off, allowing Harry to interpret the rest.

The boy in question sighed. "Alright, fine, just _please_ don't go overboard? I don't want to be alone again."

Sirius pulled Harry onto his lap, where he wrapped his arms round him and closed his eyes as he rested his chin on his godson's head. "You will never be alone again so long as I live, Harry."

Harry smiled at his godfather's words, leaning into the embrace as he drank in the caring emotion Sirius was emitting. He didn't notice a tear slip as he realised that his childhood dream had come true in a twisted way.

He was home.

* * *

As Sirius watched his godson slowly cry himself to sleep in his lap, he smiled. He'd missed the kid so much during his Azkaban days; he never thought he'd be able to raise him at all. Not wanting to disturb Harry's sleep, he slowly lowered his back to the bed, keeping his godson resting on him. He had a feeling he'd need the heavy weight on top of him to reassure himself his puppy was safe tonight.

With that, he too slowly fell asleep as he slowly ran his fingers through his godson's hair. Such was the scene Albus saw when he checked on them a few hours later.

* * *

When Fred and George heard an angry screech from downstairs the next morning, they knew their mother had seen the headline of _The Daily Prophet_. Dumbledore had sent them another message last night, confirming that Sirius was now a free man, and that Harry would be living with him whilst the wizarding world believed that he was living with his 'loving' relatives, oblivious to the outside world.

With the message had come ingredients for two sets of extendable ears. They had sent off a 'thank you' quickly, and had set to work excitedly.

Thus, hearing this screech, they both grinned and slipped into a part of the hall where they wouldn't be seen before lowering an extendable ear.

"Have you seen this headline, Arthur?" their mother screeched, hurting their ears. They raised the ear slightly. "Sirius Black: found innocent and cleared of all charges? You do know what this means, Arthur?"

There was a slight pause where their father let the news sink in. "Isn't he Harry Potter's godfather?"

"Exactly!" came the loud reply, but the twins could not raise the ear any further without missing their father's comments. So they settled for miming that she was crazy to each other. "He's going to take custody of the boy! You do realise how irresponsible that boy is?" The twins glared when she called the man a boy. He was twenty-five! "Harry is much better off with his family. At least he'll have manners, then."

"I don't know, Molly; Dumbledore never told anyone who this 'family' of Harry's is. For all we know, he could be living with Lily Potter's sister."

"Well, what's wrong with that, then? I heard that Lily girl was quite responsible."

"Yes, well, her sister – what was her name? Tuna?" The twins stifled laughs at this. "Anyway, whatever her name was, I overheard James talking about her when I walked past him and Sirius in the Ministry one day. Said something about Lily's sister still hating her or something. I get the impression they were at odds."

"Well maybe so, but there's still the fact that Lily was said to be a decent girl."

"Yes, but Tuna-" the twins stifled laughs again. "-was her sister, not Lily. That doesn't mean anything; I mean, just look at Percy and the twins! Polar opposites, and yet they're brothers."

Their mother sniffed audibly. "I still say she's better than some good-for-nothing trouble-maker."

"At least we know Sirius is nice, dear. Anyway, did you read the article?"

They could almost hear the glare sent his way. "No, I just saw the headline. Not that it matters."

"Actually, it says that at the trial, Sirius stated that he won't be taking Harry away from a loving home. He'll check on him to make sure he's fine, then leave him alone."

"Oh, that's fine, then," their mother cheered up noticeably, although the twins knew this was because she was so blind that she thought Dumbledore would refuse the visit, thus rendering the chances of Harry leaving null in her eyes. "Tea, Arthur?"

"You made me some five minutes ago, darling."

"Oh, that's right," she exclaimed. Sensing the conversation was over, the twins sneaked back to their rooms. Once there, they glanced at each other.

"She is fucking loopy."

* * *

**BONUS: One month later at the Dursleys'…**

Petunia Dursley was panicking. For a few days, she and her family had somehow forgotten all about her freaky little nephew. Then, all of a sudden, they remembered, and he'd disappeared. And now they'd remembered the little freak, freaky things were happening all around them.

It started off as simple weird stuff. The lawn would grow and dry so quickly they had almost yearned to have the freak back, just so they could have someone else do the dirty work of keeping it nice. As it was, she and Vernon – for Dudley utterly refused – had to tend to the lawn three times a day each to keep it looking even slightly nice!

At around the same time, the sinks would rust so quickly it was horrendous, and it was near impossible to clean off! Within an hour you could see it forming, and by the end of the day the sink would be horrible!

Then things would start not working properly when she or Vernon tried to use them. Dudders had no problem, it was just them. The taps wouldn't run, the toaster would burn their slices of toast, the bedroom light wouldn't turn off when they tried to turn in for the night…

And then stranger things began to happen. It wasn't that bad at this point, looking back, but back then it had been a nightmare. Any food she or Vernon would try to eat would taste rotten. Once again, her Duddikins was fine, but she and Vernon couldn't eat anything without feeling sick. It didn't matter whether they made the food or not; it would always taste to horrible!

But that's when the scary things started. It started off mild, of course. Sounds of crying from the cupboard under the stairs, sometimes whispering things in a broken voice such as "Why?" "Please stop!" "Why won't you love me?" and "Please help me". But whenever they looked in the cupboard, there was no one in there. Sometimes, however, they thought they saw the carved 'Harry's room' on the inside of the door, or a flash of green eyes when they opened it.

Now, Petunia didn't have many pictures of her sister. But when these things started happening, she had desperately began searching through her belongings for something of her sister's that might be old and reacting badly. That was when she'd found them; the pictures of Lily, her husband and two of her husband's friends… and some short, rat-like bloke beaten into pulp by the long haired man's feet.

In these pictures, Lily always seemed to be staring straight at her, and Petunia could have sworn she saw tears rolling down her sister's perfect cheeks. The men had vicious glares on their faces, and sometimes, Petunia swore she saw one of the four in one of their normal photos somewhere, the same expressions on their faces.

After Petunia had noticed this, physical changes happened to her and Vernon. Their skin, nails and teeth turned yellow, they aged faster, their hair turned a yellow-grey and began falling out in random places. Within a week, Petunia couldn't recognise herself. She was hideous. A quick call to Marge confirmed that similar things were happening to her.

But then the hallucinations started. Petunia kept seeing her sister out of the corner of her eye, staring at her with this horrible, betrayed look on her face, mouthing "Why?" And if she didn't think that was bad, soon after, Lily's rotting corpse kept chasing her in search of revenge for 'her baby'. The sight of the rotting flesh and blank eyes had been pure nightmare material.

Vernon's seemed worse, though. After a while, she managed to get the whole story out of him. He often found both of the freak's parents' rotting corpses chasing after him, but even more often was the sight of the beaten and bloodied, tearstained freak they used to keep staring up at him looking betrayed. That was far from the worst he experienced, though.

Sometimes when Vernon woke up, there would be a man from the photos (not the rat man) looming over him with a knife. This happened especially when he woke up from nightmares. Then there were the non-visual hallucinations he experienced. Sometimes, he would feel something painful in varying sizes moving in and out of his behind. Sometimes it was slow, others it was extremely fast and aggressive. Sometimes he felt and smelled hot, drunken breath on the back of his neck. Or he would feel hands squeezing and caressing his privates.

There were other hallucinations that they both had the misfortune to experience. Shadows moving on their own, sometimes in the shapes of the Potters or their friends. Glimpses of a beaten Harry, rotting Lily or James, or just the usual Lily, James and his friends in mirrors, staring at them.

If the hallucinations weren't bad enough, the nightmares were. They hadn't had a single good dream since three days after this started. Petunia would dream of Lily staring down at her looking disappointed. A beaten, bloodied and tearstained freak looking up at her, asking why she didn't stop him, looking betrayed as well. Sometimes, rotting Lily would catch her in her dreams and begin eating her flesh.

But once again, Vernon had it a lot worse. Not only did he have nightmares, but he would often wake up with injuries he'd gained in the nightmares. Within his nightmares, Lily and James were always rotten, the long-haired handsome man was gaunt and dead looking, and Harry was, once again, beaten. The sandy haired man was pale and expressionless, but his eyes, according to Vernon, were the scariest part of him.

In his nightmares, any of those five people would be slowly carving the words '**FREAK**' into Vernon's chest or '**RAPIST**' onto his back. This had happened so many times by now that the scars were looking horrific. Sometimes James was beating him bloody whilst spitting insults at him, a massive wolf was tearing him into shreds, and then there were the ones that would have him weeping for hours.

Sometimes, in his nightmares, the long haired man would rape him senseless, mercilessly. He recalled him saying something along the lines of 'teaching you for doing this to my godson'. The man would do all sorts of things to humiliate and torture him. Other times, he and James would grope and molest him, asking him how it felt to be on the receiving end. Other times, though, he would dream that everyone had suddenly turned on him.

Petunia had no idea what was going on, but if there was one thing she and Vernon knew, it was that they weren't at fault and that the freaks were somehow responsible for this.

Meanwhile, Dudley Dursley stared at his parents from the top of the stairs as his parents screamed about freaks. It had been a few weeks since his cousin had disappeared mysteriously, and although he'd thought of him as a freak for as long as he could remember, now he wasn't so sure.

You see, Dudley Dursley had no idea what had happened to his cousin. All he knew was that he'd disappeared somehow, and that a few days later, bad things started happening to his mum and dad. Dudley wasn't thought to be a clever child; oh no, quite the contrary. It was just that he'd never bothered to use his brains before. His parents didn't encourage it for some reason. So, when he used his brains for the first time in his life to make sense of this information he had, it was only natural that he'd come to the conclusion that his parents had killed his cousin, and that was wrong, thus why God was now punishing them. He'd never believed in God before, but now that it was the only explanation he had for the situation, he couldn't help but begin to believe.

And then, he thought: _If they did one thing wrong… then who's to say they hadn't done something else wrong? _Dudley Dursley suddenly began to think for himself.

Twenty years later, his cousin would find him to be a loyal Christian Psychology teacher with the intention of saving other unfortunate children from Harry's fate. He never even grew close to reaching the weight of a killer whale, and if he knew his cousin had found out about what he'd done, he would find out that his cousin was quite proud.

But meanwhile, in the present, Sirius Black was grinning evilly to himself as he watched Vernon Dursley running from something only he could see in the mirror he'd set up so he could view any of the Dursleys any time he wished. His personal revenge was coming along nicely.


	10. Pranksters Reunited

_"How'd it go?" George asked as Harry came out of the ritual room with the newborn._

_Harry hesitated before glancing at the boy. "He looks exactly like I did, only with my dad's eyes."_

_The redhead chuckled. "The Potter curse strikes again, eh?"_

_In response to this, Harry gave the baby a concerned look. "Well, I guess… but aren't Potter kids supposed to look exactly like their dads only with their mum's eyes? Why did he get my dad's?"_

_"Ah, well the thing is with that little ritual there is that the baby can't look exactly like the dad it's becoming the sole baby of," George pointed out. "However, because of the Potter curse, the only thing about its appearance that can be changed is the eyes. In the ritual, they're meant to get their grandma's eyes, but then you'd be identical. So, he got them from his great grandma instead."_

_Harry nodded slowly as they walked to the apparition point together. "I'm thinking of naming him James Sirius."_

_George gave him a small grin. "James because they're identical, Sirius because you want to honour your godfather's name?"_

_"I guess," Harry smiled shyly. "I mean, before now the tradition has been to give Potter boys their father's name as their middle name and their maternal grandfather's name as their first, but… Since he's only mine now, you know…"_

_"I get it, don't worry." Said the redhead, swinging an arm round the messy haired man's shoulders. "You can start a new tradition; grand-godfather's name as middle name, granddad's name as a first name."_

_The Boy-Who-Lived laughed. "Yeah, that's totally going to work." He shook his head in amusement, imagining an eternity of Harrys and James'._

The next day at noon, Sirius Black – now cleaned up - sat in front of Dumbledore's desk next to Harry. He'd just been filled in on their plans so far, and grudgingly admitted that his godson hadn't been lying when he'd said Dumbledore was trying to make it up to them. While they'd been asleep the man had managed to get him full custody of Harry without anyone knowing, for Merlin's sake! And when he'd asked him how in the hell he'd managed that he'd put on that infuriating twinkle! And _then_, he'd mentioned that he'd got his seized possessions back, and plonked them on the desk in front of him like they were nothing! And _again_ with the twinkle!

Of course, that hadn't taken much effort since he shouldn't have been in prison anyway, but still. Some of those Ministry officials hold grudges, and when they hold grudges, they begin to twist your words. But that still didn't mean it was particularly hard for the old man, because let's face it; that dude is the master of manipulation.

"Did you tell Sirius about your Hogwarts years, Harry?" the headmaster asked, once again displaying that infuriating twinkle.

Harry's eye twitched at the sight. "Well, not really. I didn't want to worry him, because I was a shy idiot with an unnatural hero-complex."

Dumbledore leaned closer, eyes twinkling furiously. "Ah, but I think Sirius wants to know, young Harry-"

"I'm nearly fifty, Dumbledore!"

"Perhaps so, Harry, but you cannot deny that you still behave like someone in their mid-twenties now the Dementor damage has mostly gone." Beardo smiled. It was true, of course; Remus and Tonks had explained what the Dementors had done to the two men earlier when Harry asked how the hell it works. Apparently, long-term exposure can cause their magic to leave traces in your mind which can take years to fling off, leaving you with a depressed – or bipolar – ex-prisoner. Long periods of time spent focusing on one thing and not exercising your brain also sometimes caused varying forms of brain damage. These were things Remus, Tonks and Death had managed to fix.

What they couldn't fix was the fact that Harry's mind was still used to the Dementor effects at this point, thus, combined with recent trauma, he was going through more depressive phases than he usually did. This was because his mind was used to being led into depressive thoughts. They shrugged when Dumbledore asked how his mind worked, though.

"Sir, with all due respect, but every human being in your office right now is completely nutters." Tonks had said bluntly. Which caused Dumbledore to pout. Which caused Sirius to choke back laughter, since he'd never seen it before and it was fucking hilarious.

But back on track.

Essentially, Harry was still a young man in his mind – plus child mentality forced on him by his body – despite his nearly fifty years of experience.

Harry glared at the man. "Well, at least I got battle scars! Where are your battle scars from fighting the dark?" he challenged.

Sirius turned to stare at Harry, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you both show us your battle scars?"

"I don't have them anymore!"

"You're a metamorphmagus, aren't you?" Sirius smirked, nodding towards him. "Show us your battle scars, oh brave young warrior!"

Growling, Harry stood up and headed towards his room. "Fine, but keep in mind I'm going to have to get changed! I'm nicking yeh clothes, Paddy."

And he was gone for the while.

The headmaster turned to Sirius, concern etched onto his face. "Was that wise?"

"Why wouldn't it be-" he paused, paling a second. "Oh shit. Did I just tell my godson to show me how much damage those Weasels did to him?"

"Well, unless he decides to keep it to the battle scars and not just everything, yes."

Five minutes later, Harry returned to the room adult-size and shirtless. It seemed he'd morphed into how he remembered looking towards the end of his Azkaban sentence, and Sirius was sure the sight would give him nightmares. Harry was covered in various random scars, some insults carved into his skin, what looked like a curse scar on his chest, and a large fire burn covered his entire right arm. Worst of all; his left eye was missing. Sirius just stared with a white face as Harry gave a mock bow and slow twirl, showing off his back as well, revealing an entire landscape of belt and whip marks. Yep, he'd screwed up big time.

Trying to make it up to his irritated godson, he got up and hugged him. "I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have said that," he said and he realised how thin his godson had been. That's how thin Sirius had been when he'd escaped Azkaban the first time.

"It's fine," Harry mumbled in embarrassment before heading off to change back. When he returned, Dumbledore was staring at him weirdly.

"Harry, did you never grow a beard?"

In turn, Harry's now six year-old head snapped up, and his brow furrowed. "You know, I never even noticed that. I was able to grow facial hair beforehand."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Perhaps your metamorphmagus ability kicked in. Tell me, did you have the feeling a beard would be irritating?"

"Yeah, very much so," Harry said, eyes distant as he thought back. "I suppose I completely lost the facial hair and grew my head hair to avoid suspicion or something, then?"

"Most likely so, Harry. Lemon Drop?"

"No thanks."

"Not even one?"

"No."

"Not a scrap?"

"Why, do you lace them with something?"

"Why-"

"I knew it."

Dumbledore glared at him. "Why would I do that when someone could find out and have me arrested?"

"Well, why do you keep on insisting that I have a bloody lemon drop, then?"

"It was-"

"Shut it, you two," Sirius snapped, sending mock glares their way. "Now, we need to plan shit. Me and Harry need to pay Gringotts a visit, and Dumbledore, you're expecting a visit from Remus."

"Am I? When-"

Dumbledore's response was lost as a pale and frantic looking Remus Lupin came shooting out of the fireplace. "Dumbledore, I heard about Sirius being innocent and that you were taking care of him and I need to apologise for being such a prat when people started saying he was responsible and not believing him and punching him in the face when it wasn't even his fault and calling him a traitor when it was completely obvious he wasn't and I should have noticed, I mean Sirius was like a brother to James and Peter was kind of just there and I can't believe I was so stupid and-"

"Remus, calm down," Dumbledore said, and a good thing too, as Harry was beginning to get cross-eyed much to Sirius' amusement. Judging by the tightness around his mouth, though, Sirius could tell he was just mucking around. "Take a seat," the headmaster ordered, smiling and gesturing towards the seat to Sirius' left. When the man took the seat, he gave his trademark grandfather smile to all three. "Remus, may I introduce you to one Sirius Black and Harry Potter?"

These words caused Remus' head to snap towards the two, wide-eyed. Sirius imagined it was slightly creepy for him to see the two giving him identical grins whilst waving in synch. "Okay, what have I missed here?" Remus said weakly.

"Forty years!" Harry cheered happily.

Sirius glared at him. "I must argue with that statement. He has only missed…" he counted in his head. "Ten years!"

Shaking his head sagely, Dumbledore added his two knuts ('_Oh fucking Merlin, get that thought out of my head!_' thought Sirius) "I believe he has missed eleven years, actually."

"What are you guys talking about?" Remus asked with a confused and scared look on his face, something which seemed to amuse Harry to no end. Of course, Harry had probably never seen Moony flabbergasted.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Harry grinned and looked to the others. "Should I fetch the twins?"

Practically jumping for joy, Sirius nodded frantically before stopping with a grimace. That really hurt his brains. The next thing he saw was Harry finishing scribbling a note and handing it to Ophelia, who disappeared into black flames. He looked at Harry, hoping he would tell him what he wrote.

"_Dear Gred and Horge, place repelling charms on your door. We're telling shit to Remus. Love, Harrikins_." Harry repeated. "_PS: Sorry if the phoenix scared you; her name is Ophelia, and we bonded in the headmaster's office the other night. Don't worry, though; she's still a virgin bird_."

The final part had Sirius in hysterics, but of course, the language didn't escape Remus' notice, and he gaped at Sirius in disbelief. "Sirius, have you been teaching your six year-old godson to swear?"

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I didn't even get to teach my fifteen year-old godson how to swear; he already knew but decided not to!"

"EH?" was Remus' dignified response as the twins appeared and sat next to Harry.

"Hello again, Harrikins-"

"-We've been waiting to see you, you know, triplet of ours."

"However, introductions must be cut short-"

"-For we really must know-"

"-Not why you implied that you had oral sex with a supposed mythical bird-"

"-But why Professor Lupin is gaping at everyone like an idiot." They finished together, earning a laugh from Sirius and a glare from Remus as he quickly clamped his mouth shut. Then he seemed to realise what the twins had called him.

"What did you two call me?" the werewolf asked in a gush of breath. He seemed to be panicking, but no one paid him any mind. The 'triplets' just looked at him with the same grin – a different one from the one Harry shared with Padfoot previously, mind you. And this time, much to Sirius' astonishment, Harry joined in on the twin-speak.

"Oh dear Professor Lupin-"

"-Don't you remember how you-"

"-Taught us Defence in 1993?"

"You really were quite good-"

"-And considering your good-bye gift-"

"-Of chasing our brother's annoying rat out of the house-"

"-We would have thought you'd have remembered!" They finished together. Then Harry seemed to realise something and stared at one of the twins.

"Wait, _our_ brother? Don't you mean _your_ brother, Fred?"

Fred flicked his hand dismissively. "Well, 'George and my brother and not Harry's' didn't have much of a ring to it, and you were never specified in that statement."

"If you'd even call Ronniekins our brother," George snorted, shaking his head. "Bloody thick-headed prick."

"Sorry to interrupt, but can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Remus snapped, earning astonished stares from Sirius and Harry.

"Moony, did you just swear?" Sirius gasped, clutching his chest in mock terror.

The werewolf glared. "I've done much worse and you know it. Now; _explain_."

The dimension travellers all shared a glance. Gred, Horge and Farry scratched their heads solemnly, and Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard contemplatively. Eventually, Harry slammed a fist onto Sirius' thigh, earning a loud "Youch!"

"Basically, shit went down the hill – big time – and two people from the afterlife appealed to Death to send a certain few people to a parallel dimension to give them a chance at living." Harry explained dryly. "I am here because shit really hit the fan with my life; sixteen years with abusive relatives, six years in a school of nut jobs, one year on the run searching for dark artefacts, four years of gradually becoming public enemy number one, three months of being tortured at the hands of people I thought cared about me, and then twenty-six years in Azkaban after a set-up trial for something I never did, followed by an illegal Dementor's Kiss."

Sirius jumped up and gave an elaborate bow. "I am here to make up for the fifteen-ish years I suffered before dying tragically in the last dimension, and also to take care of my godson!" He explained cheerfully, bringing Harry into a sideways hug.

"I'm here because I'm Harry's best friend and the casualties of the war had rather large effects on me. I died in my thirties when the Ministry decided that it was my fault that some idiot misused one of my products and gave me the Dementor's Kiss." George grinned. "I have both of my brothers now!"

"I'm here because George is here and I died way before my time." Fred explained lamely with a shrug.

There was a brief pause before Dumbledore made a strange noise in realisation that he was expected to join in. "Ah- I am here as a way to pay for my crimes."

"Crimes?" Remus asked incredulously. "You committed crimes?"

"The worst kind." Dumbledore said solemnly, earning a snort from Harry.

"No offense, Dumbles, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't that bad," he said wryly, idly twisting a strand of hair with his fingers. He then turned to Remus. "He did a rather large amount of stupid things in the hopes that the wizarding world wouldn't be left to Voldemort's reign."

The werewolf sighed. "I get the feeling this is going to take a while to explain."


End file.
